Bra's New Boyfriend
by IndigoSnake16
Summary: Vegeta has finally settled down into his new life on Earth and he has experienced an unprecedented time of peace. In that time, his daughter has grown up. He knew that day was coming, but he never imagined it would come so fast and in his eyes no one is good enough for his little princess.
1. A Changing Tide

**It had been seven hours since Vegeta had been in the gravity room, a very familiar area; constant and unchanging.** He needed that—he needed it desperately. He needed his daughter to remain the same little girl that he shamelessly doted on, but that was not to be and he knew it. He knew that one day she'd look at him as more of a nuisance than someone to admire, he just didn't expect that day to come so soon.

Vegeta blamed her change squarely on an unfortunate youth who his daughter seemed smitten with—a man named Malachi. That boy had wreaked havoc on the time he used to spend with Bra. Ever since she started dating him, she was nowhere to be found. Bra spent too much time with the fool in his opinion, but then this hadn't simply been a phase. It had been a year now. Vegeta had been so certain that no human male could stand to put up with her for more than a month and he had been right. She was intimidating, fiercely independent, and spoke her mind no matter what the circumstance. No weakling human could ever be a match for her. She'd wear them out in a second and they would go running for their lives—he'd seen it happen quite often. Bra did have quite the love life much to his annoyance. It was boy after boy with her. Now she claimed to have found "the one". Vegeta swore if he heard that name Malachi one more time, he would do far more than rigorous training to alleviate his mounting annoyance, an annoyance that could very easily become stoked into real anger.

He'd seen Malachi a few times: a petite man, dark shoulder length hair, dark eyes, and a height that was just an inch taller than Bra. He was musician and a very famous one at that, at least he gleaned that from the reaction Bulma had upon hearing his full name. A pop star? A rock star? One of those. He at least had money which was already a step up from Bra's usual guys. What could a man like that want with his daughter? How could such a weakling human put up with her?

Bra's previous boyfriends all had their faults and they had been fatal ones, but Vegeta could not find one with Malachi. There were many times in the past in which they'd tried to have Malachi meet the family and vice versa, but for some reason or another Vegeta would have a convenient excuse not to be there. He was fooling no one, though. Vegeta was sure they all knew he was avoiding the situation. In fact, Vegeta was surprised he wasn't dealing with an irate Bulma overriding the lock on the gravity room and storming in…He was waiting for the issue to resolve itself for Bra to realize something awful about the boy and move on as usual.

Moments later, when the lock was overridden, he knew it was Bulma and he braced himself for her presence. Just as the door was sliding open, he spoke first. He would be damned if _she_ got in the first words coming into _his_ domain.

"What the hell do you want, woman?" Vegeta said just loud enough for anyone from behind the door to hear.

But a split-second later, he realized that it wasn't Bulma at all, wrong scent, wrong ki signature. It was a worrying mistake that caused him pause just as the gravity was automatically turned off. The presence at the entrance had not entered. Then it donned on him just who it was. He turned on his heel to see with his own eyes if it was true. There he was: Malachi. The _audacity_! But more troubling, how did he know the override? Bulma or Bra weren't even on the premises.

"Is that how you greet your wife? Tsk, tsk, Mr. Vegeta."

He stood confidently without even a hint of fear being in his presence.

Vegeta growled and then questioned. "Did Bulma tell you how to do that?"

"The override? Well, it seems that keypad has been used quite often—the four digit code was pretty easy to discern with the slightly faded numbers. Not surprising as I've heard you like training here a lot."

Vegeta was caught off guard by this explanation. Had he just admitted to hacking the system? "Boy, you have five seconds to tell me why I shouldn't disintegrate you where you stand."

Malachi still seemed at ease frustratingly enough. A grinning smile came to his face, one that seemed to come easy to him—a smile that wasn't nearly as sincere as Kakarot's. "Is it okay for me to step in?" he asked.

"Your choice," Vegeta said gruffly.

He hesitated, the first sign of uncertainty which did wonders for putting the Saiyan at ease, then stepped in.

"Well, good, I'm not dead," Malachi said as if death was a casual thing to avoid. He took a deep breath. It seemed he'd already had something planned to tell him. "Here's what I think, Mr. Vegeta. I think it's impossible for any boyfriend of your daughter to start off on the right foot with you. You've been avoiding me as if by doing so, I'll simply disappear. I don't intend to do that not in the slightest." Vegeta's usual glare intensified at this. "Let's just get this out the way—Hi, I'm Malachi, nice to meet you, sir." He held out his hand to the man.

Vegeta was quite aware of the human custom of handshakes. He'd never participated in it before and he didn't plan on starting today. He stepped a little closer to the annoying cockroach barely hiding his utter contempt if at all as he scowled. "You have some nerves, human—

Before he could finish, Malachi had unconsciously stepped back momentarily forgetting that there were stairs behind him and fell quite unceremoniously down the three steps onto the ground. There was clear amusement in his eyes as Vegeta stepped into the doorway to see the other. Malachi looked the picture of embarrassed. His cheeks were reddened and he looked anywhere, but the other's face. He cursed under his breath probably from the sprained ankle that Vegeta was noticing at the moment. Finally, Malachi did look back at him. To his credit, there was no hint of fear more like exasperation as if this was something that occurred often. Curious, as they had just officially met.

"Enjoying the view? I suppose this is the first of many," Malachi said with a healthy amount of acid.

This was the man that Bra was attracted to? How could she even feel mildly safe or protected in his presence? Even a simple fall caused injuries. Vegeta climbed down the steps with ease that had not been lost on the man on the ground. "What did you expect to accomplish here today, boy?"

Vegeta watched the other struggle back to his feet.

"I wanted to do this with more _finesse_ ," Malachi started with a frown, "But I think I'm done here."

The man had a pronounced limp and what bravado he did have seemed nonexistent as he made his way across the entirety of the field and into the house—it was pitiful to watch and it amused Vegeta to no end until he realized that he now had fuel to add to the fire. One look at him and the other two harpies namely Bulma and Bra would be down his throat with accusations. With a grimace, he too entered the compound and found the man sitting on one of the couches of the living room, his dark eyes deep in thought, his body language giving off quite a relaxed air. It irked him a bit that he seemed so comfortable in his house. Then again, he had been invited over countless times for dinner or for no reason at all. Everyone seemed dead set on inviting him into the family. Everyone, that is except him.

"Yes?" Malachi questioned with a raised eyebrow.

 _The nerves…_ As if he was the one invading the other's space and not the other way around. "You're probably going to run off and tell Bra about all this."

"That I was intimidated by you and fell down some stairs? It wouldn't look good for either of us, now would it?" he said with a frown. "I do have my pride, you know. How about I say that everything went well and that I sprained my ankle during rehearsal? Sound agreeable?"

Vegeta hmphed at this. It sounded better than the shit storm he'd have to endure if either of the ladies found out he had anything to do with Malachi's injuries.

"Good," Malachi said icily.

Malachi didn't seem angry with him specifically. He seemed to instead be glaring daggers into the large screen television directly in front of him. He ran a hand through his hair—an action Vegeta had seen Bra do millions of times when she was stressed. It was as if the other had forgotten Vegeta was even in the room. He quickly took a small device out of his pocket—a cellphone. Was he going to call Bra and tell her his predicament? He pressed a few buttons and then was speaking curtly to another individual that Vegeta quickly knew could not have been Bra.

"Yes, yes, I'm fine. I just need you to come out here and pick me up without your 21 questions." There was a pause before he spoke again. A permanent blush had fallen across his face. "Fell down some stairs and bring someone else to take my car as well—" Now he seemed interrupted by the one on the line. "Because I'm _really_ fucking clumsy—I'm not paying you for your concern, Derrick." He hung up immediately after and slipped the device back into his pocket before climbing to his feet again.

The scene was oddly amusing to the prince. How one so weak would even bother with something like pride was beyond him. Humans had too many shortcomings to count; surely it would be a waste of energy to get so worked up over all of them all the time.

"I think I've overstayed my welcome," he said with a brief smile looking his way now, "Nice to meet you finally. I'll take my leave."

"You do that," Vegeta said with little humor in his tone although he couldn't stop himself from grinning as he watched the poor human painfully limp towards the door.

Vegeta thought he'd seen the last of the human at least for a while as he had to recover from that injury. For humans, it would take two weeks, but he was wrong about the former—Vegeta saw Malachi often as both Bulma and Bra wound up worrying over him as if the man was on his death bed to the point that Vegeta was starting to feel a bit jealous with all the attention he was getting.

Apparently, the man couldn't recover at his own place. Oh, no, their home with all the spare rooms would be far better. Vegeta couldn't tell if they were doing this purposefully or if they were genuinely overly concerned about a sprained ankle.

Vegeta made a valiant effort to avoid him, but it was becoming too obvious and Bulma was beginning to break her stubborn silence about the matter with him. Bulma was patient, but not that patient. She'd expected for him to come around by now and Vegeta knew it. They invited Malachi to _every_ meal and it would be quite odd for Vegeta to miss meals in general so with a host of misgivings, he sat down at dinner with them all.

He was quite tense about the whole thing and just as he was beginning to rethink the entire thing, Bulma placed a hand onto his shoulder and flashed a brilliant smile at him causing his mood to soften a little—the witch. He scowled at her, but did not leave the table. His attention was soon on the couple who sat with them. Bra was in a good mood, her face aglow with pleasure. It was a rare mood for her to be honest. There was a respectable distance between her and Malachi, but given the glances she was giving him, he knew she wanted to be closer. Malachi's expression wasn't nearly as glowing. Instead, it was a mix between contentment and annoyance, but when he caught Vegeta looking his way, he gave the other his easy smile, the one that wasn't quite innocent, almost sly.

"I'm so glad to have the famous Malachi over for dinner," Bulma said with a smile.

Vegeta nearly rolled his eyes at this. The woman was practically fawning over the man and he hadn't even said a word. How famous was this guy anyways? Vegeta admittedly was no expert when it came to the popular culture of Earth.

Malachi smiled brilliantly at the other as he seemed to preen at her enthusiasm. This time it was a smile that brightened his entire face and dare Vegeta say quite believable. Exactly the kind that unconsciously made his fist tighten. Anything that reminded him of Kakarot was punch worthy even to do this day.

"Aw, you make me want to come over and pinch those cute little cheeks of yours."

"Mom!" Bra said exasperatedly in embarrassment.

Malachi seemed largely unaffected as if he was used to such things though he spoke contrarily. "You're embarrassing me. It's the very least I can do for all the hospitality you've shown me these past few days."

Vegeta grunted. "Getting as bad as Bunny," he said which earned him a playful shove from Bulma.

"Sorry," Bulma said waving her hand as if it was already under the bridge. "So how is your ankle feeling?"

A flash of annoyance crossed his face, something that only Vegeta seemed to catch onto. But soon Vegeta was wearing a knowing look. He knew immediately that Malachi did not like being fussed over, but once again he spoke contrarily.

"Everything is healing smoothly," he said with a feigned smile. It was a short answer and he did not expound. Vegeta could hear a tinge of impatience in his tone.

"But missing so many days of rehearsal," Bra said knowingly. Vegeta wouldn't be surprised if Bra was completely privy to everything Malachi did. Bra had a habit not unlike Bulma to obsess a bit too much over the boy she was dating—yet another thing that drove suiters away.

"Nothing to worry about," he said in a tone that suggested he was completely at ease, "Two weeks shouldn't set me back by much. I accounted for chances of mishaps."

Bra was visibly satisfied with this answer which in turn drew another smile from Malachi. Vegeta was annoyed with the whole scene. Instead he decided to focus on the smell of food and the sound of it sizzling in the next room. Bunny was hard at work. At least there would be an award for him at the end of all this. He'd skipped breakfast because of Malachi and now he was literally starving. He was so used to this entire affair that he knew the exact scent of food that was cooked to Bunny's satisfaction and he silently started a countdown in the back of his mind for its tantalizing arrival.

"Oh, don't mind Vegeta," Bulma said drawing his attention again at the mention of his name, "he gets pretty one track when it comes to food."

"I see," Malachi said simply, "Bra gets like that sometimes. Now I know where she gets it from," he said with a playful laugh.

Embarrassment was written on her face as she punched the other in what was meant to be playful, but Vegeta noticed she put a bit too much strength behind it as Malachi grimaced and breathed inward sharply. He waved their ensuing concern away. Bra's fingers had been on his shirt quickly trying to assess his injuries when he took a hold of her hand and placed it gently on the table.

"My princess has the most…stirring of playful punches," he said.

Glossing over the fact that he'd referred to _his_ daughter as _his_ princess, it was a bit concerning to see Bra's lack of restraint. He wondered if it happened often. Vegeta glanced over at Bulma who seemed to take the incident in stride. The implications, however, was mildly telling about one of the many reasons things hadn't worked out for Bra in the past.

Just then, the food was brought in courtesy of the ever motherly Bunny. She winked at him as she added a second plate for Vegeta. She must have noticed that he'd been missing from this morning and at the moment was ravenous. Malachi was already peering over at him curiously and Vegeta gave him even more to look at as he tore through both plates. It was a decidedly normal ritual for the other two women, but by the time he finished Malachi was staring in wonderment having not even placed the dainty bit of steak on his fork into his mouth.

"I'm going to train," Vegeta said gruffly as he stood up.

"Vegeta," Bulma warned the other, but she was largely ignored as he turned from her.

"It's been a pleasure once again, Mr. Vegeta," Malachi said.

Vegeta afforded the other a glance, but he could hardly decipher if the other had been sincere or putting on airs. There was nothing in his demeanor, however, that would suggest the latter. He had only made it as far as the second room before he heard Bulma's approach.

"Is this really how you want things to be?" Bulma questioned.

Vegeta merely paused in his stride as he considered her question. Then he turned to her. "The boy is weak and he will go the way of all Bra's so-called 'boyfriends' just as it's always been."

"And what if you're wrong? You'd be making an enemy of the man who she chooses to spend the rest of her life with." She stepped closer to the haughty Saiyan.

"Aren't you jumping the gun a bit? She's too young to be making decisions like that."

"Everyone goes at their own pace," Bulma said back knowingly. "Spoiled though she is, she _is_ an adult now and can make decisions on her own—even one like those. You'll say the same thing about any guy she fancies, but look around you. The world is full of humans and they will all be 'weak' by your standards." Now she was standing only inches away from Vegeta.

At such a close distance, her blue eyes were hard to look away from and her scent was intoxicating. For as long as he had known her, it had always been that way—he wondered if she used such things to her advantage. It wouldn't surprise him in the least.

"Give him a chance," she breathed.

Her lips were mere inches away and he found himself bridging that gap almost without realizing it. She pulled away far too soon much to his annoyance.

"That was a freebie," Bulma said with a smirk. "Tomorrow, you will stop ignoring him like you have been for the past year and get to know him. I'm not telling you to spend the whole day with, but just—interact, anything other than denying his entire existence."

Vegeta did not answer right away, but her spirited eyes now a bit angered gazed at him unabashedly willing him to respond.

"Fine," Vegeta said barely moving his mouth. "Tomorrow, but I'm not expecting anything to come of it."

"No one said you had to like him," Bulma with a sigh. With a peck on the cheek, Bulma headed back to the dining room.

For a moment more he stood there silently, wondering what he had gotten himself into and why he had agreed to do it.

* * *

 **AN** : I was inspired by niteryde and her Bulma/Vegeta stories. I know I'm a bit late to the party in that regard. After I finished reading "To Live Again", I knew I wanted to write something more. I actually wrote this before DBS came out but it's set well after DBS and GT (if that's still canon, who knows anymore). I probably won't be adding characters like Whis or Beerus. Goku is no longer around at least on Earth just like GT suggests at the end of it.


	2. Capture Your Heart

**There was one thing that Vegeta noted immediately as he watched the first of many videos on the internet featuring Malachi: the crowd was crazy about him.** The young man would only step onto the stage and the thousands upon thousands of humans in the crowd would start screaming as if the world was ending. He wouldn't just step onto the stage and start whatever it is he had planned to do out there, no, he would simply stand there for a good three minutes while the crowd almost completely lost control. The camera would switch to women and men alike who would need to be taken out on account of their fainting. Strange that his presence could emit such a frenzy amongst his fans. Vegeta had never seen the like. He paused the video studying it closely, but found that Malachi hadn't been doing anything at all aside from standing there with some ridiculous looking get-up.

His wife was what people would call famous and he'd seen firsthand how pushy and aggressive idiots with cameras could be. Sometimes crowds would form around her, but it was nothing like this. What he was seeing was on some other level that he wasn't aware existed. These people were obviously obsessed with this man Malachi. Vegeta unpaused the video and waited with tapping fingers for the "thing" to occur. What exactly did he do to elicit such a strong reaction? Vegeta doubted his father would ever be able to pull out that sort of reaction from his own subjects and they had been fiercely loyal—a sobering thought.

Finally the show began. At that very moment, Vegeta felt exactly like an alien from another planet. Entertainment simply wasn't a big deal on his own planet nor had he experienced much of it during his life. It was something one only concerned themselves with during times of peace—extended periods of peace when one's focus could shift from simply existing and surviving. This was the result, he supposed: weird body motions, odd rhythmic sounds, and lots of singing. At the very least, he understood the act of singing now it was simply accompanied with instruments. Malachi didn't exactly have a deep voice, in fact it sounded more feminine. Apparently, as far as singing went, his voice stayed in the higher register.

Vegeta didn't have much to say about his overall feeling about the whole thing. More culture shock, he supposed. He really couldn't say if it was good or bad music—more research was required. That was why he wound up spending hours watching video after video unable to make up his mind about it. Then he realized as he noticed just how late into the night it was, that he had quite literally sat through dozens of videos and had not felt the urge to gouge his ears and eyes out—he supposed that was something.

Whatever he was doing out there, Malachi seemed confident and completely in control—that was what Vegeta could take from this. On account of his dancing, he supposed an entire concert would require quite the stamina for a human. He'd not sat through one entire concert before but from what he had seen, he always seemed sweated while out there. There would be sweat pouring off of him at some points and yet he would still have enough breath to belt out notes and enough energy to do his dancing.

The man seemed light on his feet. He would probably find it easy to evade incoming attacks, but one hit and he would be destroyed. Perhaps if his stamina held out…Of course, he always found himself in some imaginary fight against Bra's boyfriends that would never happen in real life. He was sure Bulma and Bra would be horrified if that ever happened, but it was something that felt utterly natural. No matter what, no matter if he continually reminded himself that these boyfriends of hers weren't meant to be sized up in that way and that they would always fail to make the cut anyways, he would still do it. In that imaginary duel, Malachi had lasted the longest thus far, but he was still overwhelmingly, a weakling and therefore not worthy of his daughter. He sighed heavily to himself, he had agreed to properly getting to know the boy later on that day. He dreaded the moment. Even if he was a nice guy, Vegeta knew he was too stubborn to care.

There was no human male he could ever truly give his "approval" of and at this point he would simply have to bite the bullet on this one and just give in. Bra was happy with him. Malachi was capable of making his daughter smile and Vegeta supposed that would have to be enough. Besides, his eyes were getting heavy from watching so many videos in one sitting. He'd have to return to it later to pass any real judgement.

* * *

 **Malachi still had a bit of a limp, Vegeta noted, even though he tried to hide it as best he could.** The girls of the house had mysteriously vanished leaving just the two of them. Vegeta found the man in the living room watching something intently on the television and as he entered and looked at the screen, he realized that it was a cooking show. The man seemed so absorbed that he seemed not to notice as Vegeta sat down as well. Vegeta wasn't sure what was being made, but it required quite a bit of cheese.

"So _that's_ how they do it…" Malachi muttered to himself.

Vegeta glanced over at him, but made no comment. This was going to be a long day if this was the kid's definition of fun. The only thing such shows served to do was make him hungry. Even the mere sight of food had that effect on him. Vegeta turned to look at the other when he felt eyes on him.

From a side-glance, Malachi noted the other with a half-smile. "Judging from last evening, you like to eat, Mr. Vegeta."

"Keen observation," Vegeta replied sardonically.

"Like what you see? I can probably make it right now."

"What's this, trying to get on my good side?"

Malachi's smile widened, "Maybe. But I do rather enjoy cooking and I really want to try out that new recipe."

He climbed to his feet at this probably sensing that Vegeta was indeed interested in partaking of this dish and made his way to the kitchen. His gait was cautious, Vegeta noted, as he watched Malachi try not to step on his foot wrong. Malachi seemed largely at home in the kitchen already knowing where things were. It was quite possible that Malachi knew more about the kitchen than Vegeta did. Vegeta could scarcely figure out a bowl of cereal let alone actual cooking on a stove. He'd ruined the place on so many occasions that Bulma would visibly pale whenever he joked about making something for dinner.

Malachi knew what he was doing in the same way as Bunny except he was far less mechanical and he did not use measuring cups. He grabbed ingredients out of the refrigerator and the cabinet as the pan heated up on the stove. He took out a cutting and focused on cutting up blocks of cheese.

"So, you do this for my daughter as well," Vegeta said conclusively as he leaned against the far wall with crossed arms.

Malachi chuckled—it was soft almost musical, "The poor girl couldn't find the right end of a spoon—no offense." He glanced over at the prince with a raised eyebrow obviously worried that he'd upset him. He gave a sigh of relief when he saw that the other wore an amused expression.

"Bunny has tried and failed to teach her—she's a lost cause and likely to starve to death without help," Vegeta said back with some mirth.

Vegeta had personally seen the pitiful display that was his daughter in the kitchen trying to cook. It was comical just how lost she was when it came to such things. She was no housewife. Malachi laughed fully at his reply as he finished up cutting the cheese and throwing the uncooked macaroni into the now boiling pot to cook. Vegeta was pleased to note that the other had two pots going and dumped two boxes of macaroni into each one; this would make for a nice snack, a meal between meals.

Malachi started another pan in which he put in flour and milk. Soon Vegeta's sensitive nose could smell the scent of melting cheese as the other slowly and rhythmically stirred the contents in the pan.

"If all goes well, I suppose I could make this again for dinner—that's if the ladies believe I can do so without shattering into a million pieces."

"That's just their habit," Vegeta said with a shrug.

Without turning he continued. "I'm certainly not used to that sort of thing."

An eyebrow rose on Vegeta's face at this, but the other didn't expound. Vegeta wasn't sure at what time the other had become so famous, but surely someone like that would have people whose job it was to keep him safe—bodyguards and personal doctors. Vegeta looked up from his wondering thoughts as Malachi bent down to grab long pans from the bottom cabinet. He dumped the cooked pasta into them along with the cheese that was literally beginning to make him salivate. Luckily, Vegeta was good at keeping his composure. Malachi set the oven to fifteen minutes and then placed the large pans inside.

"And that's it," Malachi said almost to himself as he turned from the stove to look over at the other.

There was complete silence for a little while as each looked at each other thoroughly now. Vegeta noted Malachi had a penchant for wearing dark clothing which was surprising after seeing so many bright, sparkly costumes he wore onstage. He had a slender build and his muscles weren't at all pronounced, but Vegeta's keen eyes could discern that he was quite solid though lacking in bulk.

Vegeta wondered over the other boyfriends he'd had the displeasure of meeting. Most of them were muscle-bound and not exactly intelligent. Malachi was a clear departure from this type. In fact, Vegeta didn't know what to make of him. He was clear-spoken, polite, smiled easily. Wasn't he a bit too nice for Bra's taste or was there something hidden under those smiles of his?

"Convenient how they all left us here on our own," Malachi began.

Vegeta suspected the other had said something just to say something. The silence had been dragging on for quite some time and he knew his own expression was quite guarded.

"Do you truly love my daughter?" Vegeta asked seemingly out of thin air.

"Oh, yes, of course," Malachi said without skipping a beat. Vegeta watched him intently; his eyebrows rose when the other looked away from his gaze. "Although, I have no idea how to convince you of that fact." Malachi lifted his eyes to him again with a clear question written there: how can I do that?

Leaving no room for the other to decipher his thoughts, Vegeta simply grunted and left the kitchen. The timer was almost done on the oven and he preferred that he be served as opposed to doing it himself. He sat down at the dining room table mulling over what he'd seen on Malachi's face when he asked that question—a question he'd asked every single one of Bra's other supposed boyfriends. They had all hesitated and blinked and reddened sometimes even sputter. It could simply be because it came with the territory of someone being constantly under observation or "in the limelight" as Bulma would say. Maybe he'd simply been prepared out of habit. Surely someone who was comfortable with making a fool of themselves on stage could answer a simple question like his.

Or Malachi had simply been sincere. Vegeta who was quite good at detecting lies could not find any fault in Malachi. He listened with a sigh as the other took out two plates and began distributing the food onto them. Vegeta began to wonder if he _could_ find any faults at least where it mattered. Could this man really be…Even his own thoughts wouldn't utter the words—it was still too much to consider. For right now—and Vegeta perked up internally—he was going to sample this variation of macaroni and cheese. It was hot, steamy and oozing with cheese exactly what he'd expect to see in such a dish.

Now he was plying him with food, Vegeta thought silently to himself as he very nearly inhaled the contents of the plates but regaining composure over the dizzying scent of hot, melted cheese. Vegeta supposed that such methods were working—oh, yes, it was certainly working. Just from the taste of one spoonful, he realized that it rivaled that of Bunny. The kid had done something different with this and the taste was phenomenal. How was that possible? It was comparable to something one might get at a good restaurant. Needless to say, he emptied his plate most efficiently and eyed the other as he calmly blew off some the steam and ate at a leisurely pace. Judging from the subtle smile in his features, he knew he'd done well. Vegeta waited for the age-old question of cooks who had just offered him their food: "How does it taste?" But the question never came.

Malachi was only halfway done with his plate by the time Vegeta finished off his.

"There is one burning question I've been meaning to ask you," Malachi said pointing a cleaned off spoon at the other.

Vegeta waited for the other to continue giving the other his attention.

"Are you really an alien from another planet?"

Vegeta was nearly floored by this. It was so obvious that he'd never expected to be presented with such a question.

"Is that disbelief I see? So everyone's been pulling my leg," Malachi said as if to confirm to himself. "And everyone's been _insisting_ that—

"Boy, I am a Saiyan—the Saiyan prince at that and hail from the planet Vegeta."

"From a planet that was named after you?" Malachi asked trying to hide the amusement in his tone, but Vegeta picked up on it quickly with a scowl.

"Not after me, my family which is of the royal bloodline. All firstborn males were given that name."

Malachi still appeared unconvinced though he spoke contrarily which seemed to be his way, Vegeta noted. "I suppose a planet named after its ruler makes more sense."

Vegeta had been isolated for so long in his own little world that he took for granted the naiveté of the general public. Sure, he caught glimpses of it from Hercule, but that wasn't something he dwelled on. Out of sight, out of mind as they say. In the same way the world knew little about him, he knew little about the world. Of course, Vegeta supposed that he certainly knew more being around Bulma, but even she lived apart from the masses. Malachi's disbelief which at one time would have earned his ire instead drew a smirk from him. Perhaps Vegeta had found his fatal flaw. Maybe he would find out the truth and go running for the hills like all the other suitors.

But how to convince the other without a shadow of a doubt? He couldn't very well show him the planet and introduce him to his family—all of that was gone now. He couldn't show him his family crest as it would be utterly meaningless to someone so skeptical. That left only a few options. He raised a casual finger and energy pooled onto the tip of it Vegeta watched the other's expression and frowned when he didn't get much of a reaction out of him.

"So you can gather energy from your body into one focal point."

"You make it sound as if it's common knowledge," Vegeta growled.

"You're right, it's not common, but it is something a human can do."

Malachi held his hand up now. Gradually, Vegeta felt what used to be nearly nonexistent ki increase to something slightly less pathetic. Vegeta was expecting to see the usual ball of energy, but there wasn't much form to it. Instead, it was more like a white shimmering mist that moved about his open palm. Vegeta had never seen the like.

"Can you not form it into a ball?" Vegeta asked watching the display intently.

His ki level was still at pathetically low levels, but as he attempted to do as he was told, Vegeta felt something quite strange that he couldn't quit pinpoint. Within a split second, the feeling was gone. By then, Malachi had managed to form only half a sphere as the energy settled on his palm and then dispersed—Malachi could not hold it for long it seemed. Even Goku had more energy than this as a baby. The energy level was infinitesimal, but something had felt off about it.

"Sorry," Malachi said as the energy dispersed, "That was pretty difficult for me."

"You learned how to do that from Bra?"

"I did after she insisted, but then realized that I was a lost cause as far as energy blasts go. She told me: if Videl can do it, so can you."

"Gohan's woman?" Vegeta said with a short laugh, "What a joke. I hate giving the baldy props, but for a human, Krillen can hold his own."

"Can't say I've met him."

"You're not missing out on much," Vegeta snorted. "Now, try it again, boy."

Malachi knew what the other was referring to and an exasperated look fell on his face. "What for?" he asked with a crinkled brow.

"Just do it," Vegeta ordered the other.

"Alright," Malachi said giving in. He rightly assumed it was better to not argue with the man, "Though I don't see how this helps your case."

"It doesn't," Vegeta said in irritation, "Now quit stalling."

Malachi was already focusing on gathering his energy. Vegeta noted that it took considerably more effort on his part to do so. Vegeta was waiting for that feeling again just in case it happened to be a fluke. The shimmery mist returned frustratingly slow until he felt it again—that odd feeling and still he could not place it. Malachi was visibly sweating, the strain of the activity mounting.

"Alright, that's enough," Vegeta said quickly before the other fainted from the effort.

"Had your fill?" Malachi said in a pleasant tone that barely hid his irritation—Vegeta noted this as well.

"You want me to prove my origin?—follow me outside, boy."

Malachi obediently followed the other outside to the back of the house. The gravity room sat in the distance, but they did not go as far as that. Vegeta soon came to a stop after deciding this was far enough from the house.

"You might want to stand back," Vegeta advised the other.

Vegeta waited and then began to power up. He could have transformed instantly, but he wanted to be a bit more dramatic as he eased into it slowly. Wind whipped around violently as he turned to the man and finished the last leg of the transformation. Malachi was finding it hard to even stand, his hands protected his eyes from the dirt that was thrown in the air.

There finally stood a Super Saiyan and Vegeta couldn't help the grin that came easily to his face. Malachi did not react as Vegeta supposed, hoping to scare him off. Malachi was more shocked than anything else. The look of surprise on Malachi's face was complete with arched eyebrows and an open mouth.

"I don't know what I'm looking at, but this is incredible, this _feels_ incredible," Malachi gushed.

Vegeta's brow crinkled in irritation. "Boy, don't you know that I can rip you apart without even blinking an eye?"

"You could do that before anyway," Malachi said dismissively, "But this—I'm starting to wonder if it was really Hercule who put an end to Buu."

Vegeta growled at this, "You have no idea—

"You're really from another planet!" Malachi interrupted in amazement. Then his eyes looked upward before returning to Vegeta, "And Bra, she must be—

"—half-Saiyan," Vegeta clarified.

"So incredible!"

"Yes, you've said that," Vegeta retorted as he powered down.

His powering down only served to incite more wonder from the young man much to his annoyance.

"I have to sit down—I'm feeling a bit light-headed," Malachi said taking a moment to do so with legs spread in front of him.

Vegeta sucked his teeth as he scowled, "Have you no sense of self-preservation?"

"And what do you plan to do?" Malachi said lying back on the ground, "Kill me? I figure a guy like you would have done that by now instead of prolonging things."

Vegeta stood with his arms crossed watching the infuriatingly relaxed man in front of him. the man was a fool through and through.

"What brings you here to little ol' Earth?" the man asked with the same wonder in his tone.

Vegeta 'hmph'ed and then sat down as well in front of his sprawled form. "Ask Bra. I'm in no mood for long-winded stories." Vegeta's eyes became distant.

Malachi laughed softly at this, "Bra's patience for such things is on par with yours. No matter, maybe some other time."

Vegeta glanced over at the youth when he felt Malachi's eyes on him.

"Up until this moment I thought you were capable of only one emotion, but…" Malachi paused and then looked to the sky, "it seems I was wrong."

Vegeta made no comment about that as he sat quietly. He was still unable to make his mind up about the other. It was too early, he supposed. Then again, Malachi had been dating his daughter for over a year now. Marriage seemed on the horizon. Vegeta sighed inwardly at this. Just from spending this small amount of time with him, Malachi seemed like the touchy-feely type and would _not_ spend years trying to decide when to 'pop the question'. It was giving him a headache just thinking about it.

"So she's a half-Saiyan," Malachi said quietly.

There was still amazement in his tone. Vegeta was subconsciously waiting for it turn into horror, but the man seemed plainly fascinated by the new discovery, perhaps overly so.

"That would explain a lot," Malachi said a little louder. "Whenever she gets too excited, things wound up going south from there."

"Is that so," Vegeta said, secretly a bit concerned about the news, "I taught her long ago how to control her strength."

"Hm…" Malachi replied nonchalantly, "She'll be the death of me one day."

"And yet you don't sound very concerned about that."

"I'm not," Malachi said with a sigh, "I've already…fallen in too deep with her to be concerned about the details. Far too late for scare tactics, Mr. Vegeta. Perhaps you should have tried to get rid of me a bit sooner."

Vegeta could practically hear the other grinning without even having to make out the other's expression. He grunted at this.

"I'm fairly certain you haven't heard of me at all. I supposed I've seen stranger things," Malachi after another moment.

"What are you exactly," Vegeta asked vaguely intrigued by his occupation after watching the handful of videos.

"I like to call myself an entertainer—if the audience is happy, then I've done my job."

"And on this planet when the audience is so called 'happy' they start screaming and fainting?"

"I'm flattered; you actually watched me perform. In your eyes, it must all look so odd. I'm so used to those sorts of things that it seems absolutely normal, but now that I think about it…" Malachi left the thought unfinished. "The real question is—did _you_ enjoy it?"

"There are few things that I enjoy," Vegeta said after a moment, "And watching you twirl around on stage is not one of them."

Malachi snorted, "I suppose I am just twirling around on stage. But you know, entertainment is purely subjective. People may think they have a formula for what's enjoyable and what's not; the truth is, it's all random. They could all love me one day and hate me the next. What's entertaining may not be a few months later."

"So your position in this world is based on the whimsical opinions of others—doesn't sound like a very stable foundation."

"It isn't, but I sincerely enjoy what I do. I hope the day never comes that the public has finally moved on."

"Hmph."

"You're worried," Malachi stated matter-of-factly. "You shouldn't be. As far as financial stability goes I've already made twice times that which your wife will make in her entire lifetime."

Vegeta looked at the other in disbelief, "How is that possible?"

Vegeta had imagined that Bulma was surely the wealthiest human on the planet, but he had not done any research on the matter. The way she shopped and threw overly extravagant parties was all the evidence he needed.

"The entertainment industry is a gamble, but the returns make it well worth it. It is easy to get into and easy to fail. If you don't have that something that moves people, then you will remain mediocre no matter how hard to try. We, as in humans, put a lot of stock in our emotions even more so than logic. While your wife may be a technical genius, I have captured their hearts and that will always be worth more."

Vegeta could only stare at the other as his mind tried to make sense of the information given to him. Never had it been so starkly clear how different this world was from his home.

"You would not fare well on my home planet. Strength was valued above all."

"No," Malachi said shaking his head in disagreement, "Physical prowess perhaps, but now true strength."

Vegeta was going to argue with the other, but then saw the wisdom behind his words. If Saiyans had truly been as strong as they boasted, they wouldn't be so nearly extinct.

"You think yourself a strong person?" Vegeta asked in mild curiosity.

"Well," Malachi began while sitting up a little on his forearms, "I certainly don't think I'm weak. Although…I would still crumble quickly under your overwhelming might," he finished with a laugh.

Vegeta stood up then and Malachi looked up at him worryingly, wondering if he'd said the wrong thing.

"I suppose you'll do for a human. Tell Bra, that you're not entirely a waste of time."

Malachi was speechless and Vegeta took this time to move towards the gravity room.

"Wait!" Malachi shouted as he climbed to his feet.

Vegeta sighed exasperatedly and stopped in his tracks to hear the other out.

"Where are you going?" he asked quickly.

"To train," Vegeta replied with clear irritation.

Malachi took a deep breath, "I know we may not be friends, but I'm glad to have your blessing." Vegeta scowled at this but Malachi could not see. "And perhaps one day, I'll capture your heart as well."

Vegeta snorted at this and continued on his way without giving the man a second glance. There were only two people who had managed to do that and they were of the opposite sex. Vegeta would do little more than tolerate the man his daughter apparently intended to marry. Anything further would be a miracle.


	3. Fragile & Broken

**Vegeta had gotten used to seeing the twirling man perform on stage after watching his videos several more times.** The first time had simply been culture shock. The second time he'd studied it closer trying to make sense of the phenomenon that was dancing and singing. The third time he'd begun to pay attention to the words and began to understand the meaning behind him.

By now it was simply guilty pleasure.

Malachi had a distinct voice usually finding it's home in the higher register, but it was dynamic and clean. Vegeta preferred live performances. Malachi would emote the music so spectacularly that it took on a life of its own.

Looking at it objectively, there was a constant rhythm and words that accompanied it. The entire concept was ridiculously simplistic. Why then did it feel like something far more—and better yet why was he still looking at these 2 o'clock in the morning? Surely there was something else more important to be doing. His eyes refused to turn away, however, and he did not put any real effort into trying to do so.

That was when his cellphone began to vibrate in his pocket. He answered quickly knowing that only a select few people knew his number. The caller ID revealed that it was Bra. Vegeta already noted that it was quite late for a call from her. Almost immediately, he sought out her ki signature and knew that she was panicked.

"What's wrong, Bra," Vegeta answered before she ever said a word. He was standing now.

"I think I…I think I accidentally…"

"What is it, Bra?" he said when she paused for too long.

"It's Malachi…he's been hurt really badly."

"Where is he now?" Vegeta asked calming down considerably when he knew Bra was safe.

"I called 911. He's at the hospital—they won't let me see him. I'm so stupid!" she exclaimed tearing up.

"Tell me what happened," Vegeta said maintaining a steady voice.

"I should've taken him to Dende, but I was too scared to move him and now he's in a hospital swarmed with paparazzi and, and…"

"Bra, calm down—"

"I did this to him—it's all my fault!"

"I'm coming to you, alright," Vegeta told the other firmly.

"No, don't—all those people with the cameras will see you. Turn on the news, it's all over the news. You'll only make it worse if you fly over here."

"Stay on the phone," Vegeta ordered though rethinking his plan to come to her.

Vegeta finally paused the video he was watching—"Dad, what was that in the background?", "Nothing," he grumbled—then walked downstairs quietly so as not to wake Bulma. He flicked on the television and immediately he was shown the news coverage of West City Hospital. Luckily, he did not see an injured Malachi being harassed. Instead he was continually shown footage of a stretcher with a pained looking Malachi being rushed into the hospital and then as Bra followed them in. Vegeta's fist unconsciously clenched at the sight of Bra having to put her hands up to deter the questioning reporters. She looked small and defeated. He turned off the television when he couldn't bear to watch it any longer.

Malachi was obviously in critical condition and according to Bra, she was at fault. Vegeta could only imagine what happened since Bra was too much in shock to tell him definitively.

He sat back onto the couch with a deep sigh unable to sleep. All he kept thinking of was Malachi's fatal flaw: being born a human.

* * *

 **It was weeks before the media frenzy calmed down.** Malachi's publicist went on record to say that he had been in a near fatal car accident and that no alcohol had been involved. Vegeta knew that this wasn't the case—Bra had not mentioned anything about a car. There was a press conference and the publicist gave consistent vague answers until it came to a close. Vegeta wondered how many palms Malachi had to grease to get the right people to accept all the falsehoods.

Vegeta didn't have to be told what the truth was—he already had a sneaking suspicion. Soon the media moved on to other things even though die-hards with cameras still lurked around the hospital. Insects, all of them. If his wife wouldn't become so upset, he would have sooner gotten rid of them on his own terms rather than sneaking around.

Bra hadn't left the hospital; this concerned him the most. Was she eating properly? Was she getting enough rest? Vegeta knew the answer to those questions even before he asked them. He was forced to wait, himself barely able to function properly. Bulma had her work to distract her—for him, well, there was always excruciatingly painful workouts that would leave him too tired to deny himself sleep, but surely there had to be something more constructive that did _not_ draw concern and worry to him. Everyone had enough on their plates. Instead, he flew. He flew for hours, for days, sometimes even in Super Saiyan form traversing the entire planet several times.

As soon as those painful weeks of biding his time passed, he was at the hospital in seconds glaring daggers at the peons still with their damned cameras.

He knew where Bra was, he always knew where she was and when he entered the room, Bra was hugging him in a second. He let this go on for longer than he ever had before sensing her distress. Then gently he pulled away from her. There were tears in her eyes and his heart very nearly broke completely.

"Bra, go home," Vegeta said stoically.

"No, Dad—"

"I won't repeat myself. You've been here too long and you need rest."

"You don't understand," Bra argued with the other.

"I do," Vegeta said back in a serious tone—it wasn't a complete lie, "That's why it's important to take care of yourself or else you'll be of no use to anyone, leastly to him."

Vegeta didn't say his name, but he was sure she knew who he was referring to. They had a glaring contest as Bra visibly gritted her teeth at him in utter annoyance still with glassy eyes. Finally, she relented and stalked off from him. She couldn't resist another look at the occupant in the bed before leaving the room. Vegeta wasn't satisfied until he sensed that she left the premises.

Now it was simply him and Malachi—a situation that hadn't happened since the time he prepared that heavenly macaroni dish. With a heavy sigh, he stepped over to the young man.

The only thing he could see of him was his head, the rest was placed in a heavy cast that allowed for no movement. One leg and one arm was lifted perhaps for circulation, Vegeta couldn't be sure. The same man he had seen in those videos was now here in this condition. It was depressing even from the outside looking in. The man was thoroughly conked out probably from the drugs that was administered to him. Despite the pillows and the sheets, he still looked highly uncomfortable. Vegeta sat down in the one seat that occupied the room and waited for the other to awaken.

It took Vegeta a moment to notice something odd about this picture. Where were the boy's immediate family or anyone for that matter? The whole time he sat there, not a single relative entered. Was he simply a private person or did he lack a family altogether? The more he thought about it, the more he realized that there had never been a word mentioned about his family not to invite them over, not for them to meet. Surely Bulma would have been all over that sort of thing.

"Vegeta…? I must still be dreaming," Malachi said with a weary voice.

His voice startled Vegeta from his wondering thoughts. He'd been too absorbed to see when he'd awoken.

"You sent Bra away—good," he said further.

Vegeta was right in in his assumption that the other couldn't move as he didn't turn his head even to address him.

"What the hell happened to you?" Vegeta asked. He waited, but then the other seemed to have gone mute. His eyes were more interested in the opposite wall. "Speak," he ordered.

"Or what?" Malachi asked acidly, "Will you finally put me out of my misery? We both care about the same person so there is absolutely nothing you can do to hurt me—unless you plan to annoy me to death with your empty threats."

Vegeta went through a few emotions namely astonishment, searing anger, and then more anger—before landing on something a bit more constructive.

"So you have a death wish?"

"Maybe, I'm a complete and utter fool through and through. I'm too weak to even…I don't ever want to make her feel this way again. She's been in here day and night…I need to be stronger. If I could, I'd turn to look at you for dramatic effect, but I can't so you'll just have to pretend that I did. I need to be stronger."

"Then go to those places you humans call 'gyms'."

"No, I want to become strong like you," Malachi said in lower tones as if it was a conspiracy. On further thought perhaps it was.

"Aren't you tired of hospitals, boy?" Vegeta said gruffly.

"I'm tired of being in this damn bed unable to move. So, what, do I have to pay you or something?"

"I let you get away with that tone last time, but there are far worse fates than death that I am well versed in."

Vegeta didn't get the fearful response he wanted, but the other did become quiet and contemplative.

He took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, that was uncalled for. But I'm being quite serious."

"You don't have to pay me—if I'm even going to consider this, you have to tell me what happened." Vegeta was sitting up straight in his chair waiting for the other to talk.

"I'm embarrassed enough as it is. I'd much rather just pay you."

"Well then you'll have to find some other way to solve your little problem and maybe by then, Bra would have come to her senses about you."

That got him, Vegeta knew. He watched the other close his eyes in silent indecision.

"Bra hasn't told you?" he asked after a long pause.

"No, it'd be easier pulling water from a stone."

"It's not even important just what happened, just that it did!" Malachi squawked.

"Why is everyone being so _closemouthed_ about this," Vegeta said in raised tones. Beginning to lose his patience. "Just say it—I promise it won't be anything I haven't heard before."

"Usually, I'm not so secretive. I tell everybody, everything about me because it's what the public wants and now you ask me to give you this something that's pretty much inconsequential in the grand scheme of things—

"Bra got a little too excited…in the 'heat' of things," Vegeta interrupted.

Malachi was turning a deep shade of red. "Well if you knew, why did you ask?" he sputtered.

"Now I do," Vegeta said with a triumphant grin.

"Well played."

"You're a glutton for punishment and now I can see just how desperate you've become." Vegeta paced for a moment and Malachi was silent the whole time. "The fault lies with me. I didn't train Bra as thoroughly as I should have."

"I'm guessing this never happened with you and your wife?"

Vegeta growled at this, "What happens between me and my wife is none of your concern." But Vegeta could still see the blush on the other's face and then relented grudgingly. "No, she was never in danger. I've always been in complete control."

"If it's possible for someone like you—"

"Alright, I know where you're going with that statement," Vegeta cut across becoming a bit disgusted with the topic at hand. "Then you know it isn't necessary for you to do anything. I will train Bra and that will be the end of it."

"But she hates that sort of thing."

"And that's why we're here now. This could happen to anyone she 'dates'. She needs more discipline in her life."

"And _you're_ going to be the one who enforces this? This is not a child we're speaking of."

Vegeta frowned at this, "Your point?"

"It's nigh impossible unless she's willing. Even then, I don't want to be the reason she's forced into such a choice. I'd feel far more inadequate than I already do. There's only one answer to all of this."

"You becoming stronger," Vegeta concluded.

Vegeta couldn't help but agree that his reasoning had an air of sense to it. Training Bra in general had always been like pulling teeth—she was not meant for such things. Here before him was a willing student with all the motivation in the world to succeed.

"So it's agreed?" Malachi asked.

"I don't train humans."

"I'm quite serious about all of this."

"And so am I," Vegeta retorted. He turned and proceeded to the door.

"Wait, damn it!" Malachi yelled with surprising force that caused the other to pause. "What do you want? There has to be something that you want. Whatever it is, I can give it to you—anything. Just say the word. Hell, it could be a whole laundry list of things and I wouldn't blink an eye."

Vegeta stood silent for a moment and shook his head. "There is nothing you have, or anything that you can buy with your money that could sway me." It wasn't entirely true as his thoughts strayed to that dish Malachi had made for him. Despite a valiant effort, he could not find a restaurant that even came close to replicating its perfection, but Vegeta had made his choice. "My daughter should have thought twice before involving herself with a pathetic weakling like you."

"You bastard!" Malachi hissed at Vegeta made his way out the door and then slammed it closed. "You get back here, you bastard! You can't just fucking LEAVE! You can't just fucking…"

Vegeta's sensitive ears heard as their other began to shed tears. They were quiet ones, but he could hear the sniffling.

"Weakling," Vegeta said under his breath.

He didn't want to think about how upset Bra might be if she found out that he left her beloved boyfriend in such a state, but she would never find out. Vegeta knew Malachi would never say a word about this moment to anyone.

Vegeta opened a window and flew off back to his home.

* * *

AN: The next chapter is much longer and will take much longer to type. Stay tuned!


	4. Better Together Than Apart

**Bra seemed to have sworn off all contact with men even him.** Vegeta knew the day Malachi had broken it off with her. It had only been a few days after the talk and Bra had flown home with increasingly erratic ki levels. Vegeta had been there to see the waterfall of tears. Still he hadn't felt the least bit guilty knowing that she was strong enough to get over a mere boyfriend. Although, it was a first for him to see her so upset over a breakup, let alone tears being shed.

She ran to Bulma for comfort—a normal occurrence. Bulma was the obvious choice when it came to matters like that. Eventually, she would come to him; she always did. As the weeks rolled by, however, he realized she would never come.

He began to wonder if Malachi had said something. He knew it wasn't the case though. Bra would have said something to Bulma and Bulma would have come directly to him—he knew how things worked by now. He noticed that he saw nothing of Bra and when he asked Bulma about it, she simply said that their daughter needed space. After losing someone she had given so much of herself to, she needed time to recover.

That was when the guilt began to set in.

At dinner, she would eat little and as the days rolled by it began to show physically. She would mope in her room, ignore her phone completely, ignore the world in general. There was no longer any life behind those bright blue eyes of hers. All this for a silly break up? And why wasn't Bulma doing anything about it?

He grumbled to himself as he laid in his bed for the night. Bulma was nowhere to be found, he knew she was in her lab slaving away on a project she had only spoke to him briefly about—something about energy storage. Whatever it was his own intelligence could not quite grasp the details, but she was pretty gung-ho about the whole thing. Far be it that he stepped in between her and her current obsession. Although it did make the nights lonely especially when he wanted to talk to someone about Bra. He was becoming just as needy as Bulma it seemed.

A sudden scream had Vegeta bolting upright in his bed. He knew it was Bra. Perhaps it was a bad dream. Either way, Vegeta was making his way to her room. The door was closed, but it was unlocked. Learning his lesson from the past, instead of barging in, he knocked. She didn't answer and he began to have a sneaking suspicion that she was deliberately avoiding him.

"Bra, everything alright?" he asked hoping his concern could be heard in his voice.

"It's unlocked," Bra finally said after a moment too long of silence.

Taking this as his cue, Vegeta stepped into her room. It was dark, but Vegeta's eyes were already adjusted. She had earphones on and she was staring at her mp3 player. Vegeta knew immediately as his ears picked up on the minute noise coming from the earphones that she was listening to Malachi. Her eyes were red-rimmed, but she was wearing the first real smile he'd seen from her in a while.

"He misses me, he _misses_ me—I just know it. Listen to this, Dad," Bra said taking an earphone out of one ear and offering it to him.

"You know I don't listen to that kind of thing," Vegeta said in irritation.

How could her daughter ever move on if Malachi's presence was everywhere? Of course, Bra would own his albums. Vegeta briefly pondered if he should burn them for her sake.

"That's right, you don't listen to anything," Bra said with obvious sarcasm, "Why are you here anyway?"

"I heard you scream."

Bra shrugged, "I was excited. You see, Malachi lets me in the studio when he's working on his music and he's been working on this album for almost a year and I _know_ all the songs on it. He released it today and I got a digital copy as soon as midnight came around. There was a deluxe version and there was a bonus track, a track I've never heard before and I just know he's talking about me. Listen to it, alright? Tell me if I'm wrong."

Vegeta relented knowing that this was the most she'd said to him in quite some time. It would be foolish to not take advantage of the moment. Besides, Malachi's voice wasn't the most unpleasant thing in the world…

"Fine," Vegeta said with a huff as he walked over to her bed and sat down on the side of it. She handed him the earphone.

Soon he was listening. It was mellow unlike most of his other songs. He could hear the distinct pitter-patter of rain before the music started softly and slowly. Malachi hadn't even said a word, but the atmosphere was already despondent. Then came his voice. Vegeta paid attention to the words. He felt as if he'd been transported to a world where only himself existed. He was alone and it would always be this way. His voice exuded an inescapable despondency slowly spiraling out of control and would eventually bring him to some dark place of his own making. He grew indignant about his fate. Was there no one to help? Was there nothing he could do? Or was his fate sealed?

Vegeta would never admit it but as the song ended with the sound of more rain, it gave him chills. Malachi had managed to do it again; force him to see with eyes other than his own. Was this what empathy felt like?

He handed the earphones back to her and he could already feel her expectant eyes on him. she wanted him to agree, she wanted him to see things her way.

"He was vague," Vegeta began.

"About what?" Bra said interrupting in a tone of disbelief.

"Let me finish," Vegeta growled. He couldn't believe he was in the dead of the night dissecting the meaning of a song by a guy he wanted no more to do with. "He didn't mention any names—"

"He _never_ mentions names. I mean unless they're super common."

"Will you let me finish?" Vegeta asked again in agitation.

"Oh, sorry," she said sheepishly, "I'll hear you out."

"He was nonspecific about everything, only part of the song was first-person, and the only thing I got from it was that he laments his apparent loneliness. He doesn't say he misses someone. He doesn't mention how he got to that point. He simply focuses on that one thing. To say the song meant anything further than that is pure conjecture."

Bra's eyes were burning holes into the side of his face. He was glad he opted to look away for the time being.

"First of all, he tries not to be too specific so he can relate to the most people. You know he has fans all over the world. Second of all, I…I feel the same way, I feel the _exact_ same way and that can't be an accident."

"You say he wants to relate to a lot of people, right? Maybe you were just one of the people who related to it."

"Of course you wouldn't understand," Bra said in dark tones, "I don't even know why I bother with you anymore."

"I'm going to let that slide because you're clearly sleep deprived and not in your right mind," Vegeta said with a scowl.

"You always hated Malachi. You always hate all my boyfriends and you always scare them off. You'll probably have me be alone with only a selfish bastard like you to keep me company," she said as her tone continued to darken.

"Watch your mouth before I—" Vegeta barked, but then stopped himself before his threat became needlessly violent. He could see the tears in her eyes even in the darkness. She would usually initiate a hug at this point, but she stayed stubbornly away from him.

The guilt worsened.

"You did something, didn't you?" Bra accused of the other.

"No more than I usually do. He was decent, I approved of him," Vegeta said in near pleading tones. He wanted to maintain his composure, but the thought of Bra blaming him for her unhappiness was like a waking nightmare. His thoughts were turning to mush.

"He loved me," Bra said quietly, her body growing weak with grief, "It didn't feel like the others. He really loved me. I can't understand why he broke up with me. When he tried to explain, his wording was all weird—he wouldn't say it like that. He started talking about strength and not being strong enough and he just doesn't talk like that— _you_ —and she said "you" with such vehemence that it caused him to involuntarily flinch—"talk like that all the time. On that day you told me to go home, you were there with him alone. I'm very in-tuned with his energy and I know for a fact that you stressed him out somehow, made him cry. I thought it was a dream, I was half-asleep. Surely my dad wouldn't do that to a helpless man in a full body cast who couldn't even move to scratch his ass. Surely my dad wouldn't take advantage of someone who was already so emotionally vulnerable.

"Then I took my blinders off and realized you would be just the asshole to do it."

"Bra," Vegeta began with barely veiled shock behind his words. But he realized he had nothing else to say.

Before the truth he could say nothing when it bore the visage of Bra's indignancy. His silence only made things worse as her ki began to spiral out of control. Vegeta grabbed her out of the bed before the sheets could catch fire. She tore herself from his grip and snarled at him—a remarkably unladylike sound, but she was becoming quite unhinged.

"I need someone to pound into a bloody pulp!" Bra screamed vehemently.

She ran at him and it was only due to Vegeta's surprise that she got a good swing at him that connected with his jaw even drawing blood.

"Die!" she yelled going in for another lunge, but her element of surprise was gone.

Bra's outburst could not hold a candle to Vegeta's long years of combat experience. He soon had her in a hold that would not allow her to move unless she was strong enough to break free. He had her arms pulled behind her as she continued to struggle against his grasp. It seemed as if she was beginning to calm down.

"He doesn't have any parents," Bra said through gritted teeth, "He doesn't have any family, no one to run to if he ever feels like shit. All there is is music. Don't _tell_ me I don't understand or that it's inconclusive when its plain for all to see!" She was seething now and her ki was jumping all over the place—he thought she'd be spent by now.

"Bra, you have to calm down else you'll wound up destroying this whole room."

"Don't tell me to calm down!" she cried out.

Now her ki was steadily rising. In hindsight, perhaps he shouldn't have said "calm down". The very phrase must have ticked her off as much as it did him.

"Sometimes, I just wish I was strong enough to…"

The sudden increase in strength almost allowed her to break free as she cried out with barely contained rage. And then he saw it, but only for a split second, a glimpse of yellow. Then immediately afterwards, she fainted with exhaustion. He became the only thing holding her up.

Never would he believe she would become so worked up over anything until now. And it had all been because of him. He really had no clue what he was doing. Even after all this time, being a father was a concept that eluded him. Did he protect her or was he meant to step back? Did he obsess over her well-being or simply watch her make mistakes? And who was he to claim that he knew what was best for her when he hardly had a grasp on what was good for himself?

He lifted the unconscious half-Saiyan in his arms and placed her back on the bed. His keen eyes looked over her condition. She'd not been consuming enough nutrition over the past few months and she'd lost some body mass—as if she had any to lose in the first place. Her coloring was pallid and the idea of showers seemed to escape her completely. She was in pitiful shape. She was a far cry from the person she used to be.

The guilt was too much to bear.

He opened her window so that he could escape to the outside. Her room was on the second floor. Soon he was speeding off into the air. The house was now too stuffy, too small—he needed to breathe. He also needed to find Malachi to see if the situation could be salvaged. That would be no small challenge since he was not at all in-turned with the boy and his ki presence was near negligible especially if he wasn't trying to make himself known. Malachi blended in with the rest of the humans.

He had to be close by, however, if he at one time visited the residence almost every day. He probably lived in the suburbs especially since he had invited Bra over and he'd heard not one complaint about his living arrangements from her.

After he narrowed it down, he pinpointed his location nearly an hour later. Vegeta didn't bother with the front door. Surely it was locked. But there was a window open that he easily slipped through, bypassing all the human security measures. The house, however, didn't seem particularly secure.

Malachi 's energy was too active to have been asleep and he was correct in his assumption as he made his way to a partially closed door.

"Yes! Finally did it, damn it!" Malachi shouted in what sounded like intense enthusiasm—not exactly the sound of a man who was in anyway depressed, Vegeta noted.

Vegeta opened the door to the room. Malachi yelped at his sudden intrusion and fell onto the floor. Vegeta assumed that this was the man's bedroom as he noted the other had been sitting on a bed. An impressive string of curses flowed from Malachi's mouth as he climbed back onto the bed wincing all the while.

"What the hell, man? Trying to make me die of a heart attack!" Malachi exclaimed as he now lay sprawled on the bed.

On closer inspection, Vegeta smelled a strong scent of alcohol. The floor near his bed were littered with empty bottles of beer. On the brightly lit television screen was the word "Paused" scrawled across it and the controller recklessly disconnected probably accidentally as Malachi has fallen to the ground.

"Stop being dramatic," Vegeta said gruffly wondering if it was a good idea to be breaking and entering into the home of very prominent figure in human society who was clearly inebriated. The sight of an unconscious Bra had spurred on his overprotective tendencies. He knew what or more like who could help her and unfortunately it was not himself.

"What brings you to my humble abode, your majesty," he said in a slightly slurred voice.

There was a heaviness in his tone that had not been there before.

"I—"

But Vegeta couldn't finish before the other was cutting across him.

"Hey, I bet you're hungry, right? I'll cook you something—let me cook you something—a feast or something," Malachi said sitting up in his bed.

"I didn't come here for that," Vegeta growled.

"Let me make you something, let me cook—there's never anyone to cook for and I hate wasting food. You won't waste food," Malachi said in pleading tones.

"It's rather late in the night for that sort of thing," Vegeta said half considering, half focused on what it was he came to do.

"You would refuse my hospitality? It's the least you can do after surprising me half to death. And I just wanna cook right now since I have guests and all," Malachi said climbing off the bed and standing unsteadily.

"Guest, boy, just _one_ guest."

"Huh? Same difference. Just lemme do something useful with my hands—I feel so _useless_ —"

"Alright, quit your whining and make me something already," Vegeta said relenting, though it takes little persuasion to convince a Saiyan to eat.

His gait was unsteady and Vegeta watched him with a critical eye. When it came to the steps, Vegeta was ready to jump in and save him were he to trip. Malachi was surprisingly careful on the stairs and there was no incident. Vegeta took it as a good sign, at least he was still capable of coherent thoughts.

Malachi's kitchen was massive, too massive for one person. Though impressive, it gave Vegeta a cold feeling. The house was silent save for the sound of their breathing. Vegeta knew for a fact that nobody but Malachi lived here. He'd smelled only residual scents of Bra, but no one else. That coupled with the song he had been forced to listen to; was it connected?

Malachi was pulling meats after meats out of the refrigerator. Then he was grabbing seasoning and muttering to himself, something Bunny didn't do because she was practically a robot. If he reached too far up or bent down too low, he would hiss in pain. Under his nightshirt that was a bit too small, Vegeta could see that he was still heavily bandaged. Perhaps he shouldn't be exerting himself this much, but Malachi seemed determined to cook.

Despite himself, Vegeta was eagerly awaiting the end results. Even Chi-Chi would have been impressed with the boy's skill. "Is this what you do on your free time?" Vegeta asked with a hint of amusement.

"No," he answered immediately, "I hate wasting food. There has to be someone there to eat and there isn't anyone…unless Bra visits, but she doesn't visit anymore," he said with a sigh, "You'll have to eat everything, you know," Malachi said after a pause, "I'll be really, really upset if you don't."

Vegeta snorted, "Why don't you just hurry it up, kid?"

Malachi was already moving at phenomenal speeds and still Vegeta never saw a measuring cup. Soon in only 15 minutes, everything was prepared and either cooking in the oven or sizzling in the pan. He was making macaroni and cheese, Vegeta's nose noted with approval. There were five different vegetables, five different starches, six different meats. That was _a lot_ for a midnight snack, but Vegeta wasn't complaining in the least. Maybe he should visit a partially drunk Malachi more often…

Vegeta could smell when it was all done even after he'd wandered into a room with a ridiculously large television and flicked through the channels in boredom. It had taken a few hours of cooking but it was worth the wait. He was in the dining room without being told and Malachi was setting down plate after hot plate.

"There you go, my Prince—it's all yours," he said, his voice still slurred.

The smell was making him salivate and Vegeta began on it immediately. He'd come there for an important reason, but now he was becoming increasingly distracted. After this, he reassured himself, he would say what he needed and leave.

Vegeta noticed the other working on dirty pots and pans just as quickly as he devoured everything. By the time Vegeta was finished, so was Malachi who finally joined him at the table.

"Still amazes me," Malachi said staring at the empty plates. Currently, they were all stacked up neatly at the other end of the table.

"How well are you recovering?" Vegeta asked immediately before he could get distracted again.

Bone fractures were something Vegeta could not easily discern on his own especially if he did not see the accident occur.

"Ah well," Malachi began in a nonchalant tone, "Doctors say it could be a couple more months before I can take these bandages off—just an estimate, though," he finished, laying his head onto the table sleepily.

"Malachi, pay attention," Vegeta snapped, clicking his finger for good measure and causing the other to draw back involuntarily. "Remember that night at the hospital?"

"Yeah, I remember," Malachi said bitterly, "The beginning of the end."

"I've changed my mind."

It took a moment for a realization to come to Malachi's eyes. His head was still on the table turned to the side. Then his eyes saddened. "That ship has sailed, brother."

Vegeta realized he had no idea what the other was talking about and he wasn't expounding on it. Malachi's eyes were fluttering closed much to his annoyance. He had not come all this way for nothing.

"What are you going on about? And I'm not your damned, brother," Vegeta growled loudly.

Malachi was startled out of slumber again. He started grinning amused by the other's statement. "What, have you been living under a rock? It's an expression."

"I would never consider living under a rock," Vegeta began causing the other to crack up, "Speak plainly!" Vegeta ordered. He was beginning to feel a bit embarrassed. Humans had far too many "expressions" for his liking. He had yet to learn all of them apparently.

"It's too late, alright? It's too late for you to train me. I broke it off—she hates me now; bridge burned. Woman like that doesn't give a guy a second chance and I ruined the only chance I had."

"You're right," Vegeta said conceding on one point, "She usually doesn't look back when it's over with someone," Malachi sighed in a depressed manner. "But you're the exception."

"What?" Malachi said confused.

Vegeta had to unclench his already tightening jaw so he could say the sappy thing he never thought he'd be uttering. At least it was in third-person. "She misses you."

"She misses me?" Malachi said sitting up bolt right.

Vegeta only nodded to confirm to the other. "I will train you."

"Oh, Mr. Vegeta!" Malachi shouted dramatically.

Before Vegeta even realized what was happening, Malachi had leaped across the table and grappled the other around the neck in a surprising show of energy that quite frankly Vegeta didn't know he had at the moment.

"You're so warm!" Malachi said as he nuzzled closer to him, "Just like Bra."

"Get off of me!" Vegeta growled attempting to pull him off, but the man seemed to have a death grip. Vegeta knew that if he applied more force, he'd wound up injuring him more than he already was. He stood up for the time being. Bad decision.

"No, don't leave me!" Malachi cried out, "Don't leave me alone—I'm always alone!" he squeaked now blubbering into his shirt.

"Pull yourself together—you're a man!" Vegeta said in disgust.

But his protests fell on deaf ears as Malachi continued to cry. With a grumble, Vegeta zipped the other upstairs to his room. By that time, Malachi's grip had weakened enough so that Vegeta could safely yank him off and dump him on the bed. Malachi winced and cursed loudly at the rough treatment, but soon settled down.

Vegeta turned to leave the other to his own devices only to stop when he heard the other speak further.

"Thank you, Mr. Vegeta, for keeping me company," Malachi said.

Vegeta realized suddenly that there was something missing from his voice—the pronounced slurring.

"Bastard," Vegeta bit out.

"Takes one to know one," he retorted as he laughed too hard and caused himself to groan in pain afterwards. "How else would little enfeebled me get a hug from the mighty Prince? Don't worry, I won't tell anyone, not that anyone would believe me in the first place."

Vegeta took another look at the sheer number of empty bottles on the ground. If anything, he was impressed by how well he held his liquor.

"I haven't cried that much in ages," he sighed. "A woman can miss me and still not want to get involved again. I'll do my best, but she can be quite stubborn."

"When I said that, I didn't mean it lightly. I wouldn't be here if I wasn't concerned for her health."

"Her health?" Malachi asked confused.

"Call her tomorrow," Vegeta ordered.

Vegeta began walking to the doorway again.

"I'll let you know when the doctor says I'm ready for more 'extraneous' activities."

Vegeta 'hmphed' at this and finally exited. He escaped out the same window he came in and flew over near Malachi's window to make sure he didn't turn around do something stupid. Instead, he heard the television being flicked off and a few moments later the sounds of a slumbering man. Satisfied, Vegeta took off back to his home.


	5. Stoking Embers

**"I can't believe that idiot tried to call me," Bra said angrily.**

She was stabbing into the meatloaf quite vigorously and this was her second helping. If anyone was getting seconds in the house, it would be Vegeta. In fact, if Bulma was here, Vegeta was sure she'd be surprised with her appetite today. But Bulma was going to have another busy day at work and Vegeta couldn't help but look at the empty seat where Bulma would have been trying to comfort the girl.

Bra wouldn't even look at him. She was practically talking to nobody. At least Malachi had taken his advice, though it must not have gone well. The way Bra had been last night he had been so sure that Bra would have leaped back into his arms. That would have been too good to be true. He'd forgotten how stubborn she was and her pride almost rivalled his own. He sighed inwardly—he was no good at this fathering thing. Even now he might still be doing the wrong thing. Interfering with his daughter's relationship was what had gotten him to this point in the first place. Now he was continuing the same trend.

Her cellphone rang—Vegeta recognized the ringtone as one of Malachi's songs; a fact that made him grin briefly—and she grabbed the pink cell from her pocket to answer it curtly.

"Eat shit and die, asshole!" she yelled and hung up.

On second thought, maybe it was better that Bulma wasn't here to see this. The phone rang again immediately and she just as quickly put it on silent. The poor boy couldn't even get a word in edgewise. Vegeta wondered if he should say something.

"Again? He just doesn't know when to quit," she said angrily.

The fork in Bra's hand hit the plate so hard that Vegeta was sure it should have cracked. She'd been trying to cut into the meatloaf again. Vegeta knew at that moment that anything he said would probably set her off. He was no good with words—that was Bulma's department. He would communicate with his actions instead.

Should he bother with Malachi? Did she really hate him? And if she did, should he honor her wishes? Too many questions. Far too many questions. Far too many chances to make yet another mistake. Where was Bulma so he could discuss this with someone who knew better?

With a huff, Bra left the table and stormed upstairs with Vegeta watching all the while. He had to make a decision right—His thoughts were interrupted by his ringing phone. Hoping it was Bulma, he picked it up without even bothering to check the caller ID.

"Yeah?" Vegeta answered gruffly.

"Mr. Vegeta, nice to hear your voice over the phone," came Malachi's voice in delighted tones.

"How did you get this number?" Vegeta growled.

"Asking for your number outright didn't seem ideal, but I knew who most likely had it and one day I took a peek at her contacts and added your number…for emergencies only of course."

Vegeta grumbled at this, "Don't you dare disclose this information to anyone else."

"I won't, relax. This is far more convenient than you randomly showing up at my residence, right?"

"What did you want?" Vegeta asked abruptly, "Are you…recovered?"

"Not quite—that's not why I called."

"If you want to advice about Bra, I'm the _wrong_ person to be asking."

Malachi laughed at this. "If I thought you were the best source for romantic advice, I would have called you long ago. I've had this number for quite some time and never had a reason to use it until now."

Vegeta relaxed after the other said this. He already didn't like how much he'd put himself into the middle of all this and he certainly did not want to be talking about Bra behind her back.

"Out with it then, what do you want?" Vegeta asked.

"I just thought I should let you know what you're getting into. I've only met you maybe three times and coming to my house directly seems like an enormous gesture on your part. Agreeing to train me—an even bigger one. All this may not turn out the way you think. Bra may not ever—well, you know. It's just—everything's so uncertain now," Malachi said with a sigh, "And I don't want you to get disappointed if it doesn't work out. I don't want to be the reason you start thinking that maybe you've done too much and pull back from your daughter. She'll always need you no matter how much you think you messed up, okay. Promise me that you won't become…distant. It would make me feel a lot better if your relationship with Bra doesn't hinge on whether I can woo her or not."

Under normal circumstances, Vegeta would have chewed the other person out for one, obtaining his contact information by sleuthing in his daughter's phone and two, spouting all that sentimental crap to him on a cellphone no less, but Malachi had good timing. His thoughts had been consumed with indecision and he hated indecisiveness. Now suddenly everything had become crystal clear all thanks to a well-placed phone call.

"I promise," Vegeta said after a long pause, "Now get lost," Vegeta said hanging up on him quickly before he could say anything more.

He pondered changing his number, but then decided to hold off on it until after this debacle was dealt with. Besides, calling was far more convenient than trying to seek out his pitiful ki signature among so many others.

That night, Bulma was a welcome addition to the bed. He was aware of the exact moment she slipped into the sheets beside him. He knew she was trying to be quiet, but surely she should have known better after being absent for the past two nights. He positioned himself closer to her, close enough to turn over and talk in her ear.

"Bulma, fancy seeing you tonight."

She snorted and pushed him away playfully, "You've done far worse and you know it."

"Maybe," Vegeta conceded far too easily, but her presence always made him more pliable.

He was running a hand through her hair and slowly that hand began to trail down to lower places, curving past her neck and eventually landing at her soft milky breasts. Her nightgown seemed left deliberately open for wondering hands as he squeezed them tenderly. She sighed pleasantly, but it was laced with exhaustion.

"You're working too hard," Vegeta said as he kissed her softly on the crook of her neck and then gave her another on the other side, "Far too hard."

Deciding that she was quite exhausted, he pulled her closer in the way that he knew she liked and she buried her head onto his chest, her arm came around him pulling him closer as their legs became entwined. She fell into a deep slumber only moments later. Vegeta soothed by her nearness eventually followed in suit.

* * *

Bulma was sprawled almost completely on top of him when Vegeta awoke. They'd obviously changed positions during the night. He could tell immediately that the sun was too high for her to still be here. In the past he'd gotten up at the crack of dawn, but he'd since relaxed such regimen especially after he finished training Trunks. This was around the usual time he rolled out of bed these days—9ish in the morning.

Bulma seemed so peaceful there upon him—her mouth slightly parted, short hair tousled, her expression completely and utterly relaxed, her deep breaths tickling his skin—that it was a shame he had to interrupt her serenity. She was most certainly late for work and she'd forgotten to set her alarm.

"Bulma," he said gruffly as he shook her gently, but she did not budge so easily.

He increased the force behind his hands steadily, refusing to shout so early in the day. She seemed to have trouble even opening her eyes as she yawned and then settled back down.

"Bulma, you're late," Vegeta said in raised tones to a slowly rousing Bulma.

"Wha…?" she asked with a sigh.

"Bulma, you're late," he repeated with more urgency.

That did it as her eyes opened though with some struggle. Instead of leaping out the bed immediately, she decided to straddle him and to kiss him on the mouth, morning breath and all, not that it mattered much to Vegeta whose own breath was hardly better as he reciprocated and their kiss deepened. Bulma parted from him before it could go any further.

"More of that tonight—I've missed you."

"So have I," Vegeta said back with surprising ease, looking up into her bright blue eyes.

"Now excuse me as I frantically scramble around the room trying to get ready for work that I'm already hilariously late to."

"Don't let me stop you," Vegeta replied with a smirk.

She slipped out of her nightgown and was completely nude as she then commenced to doing the very thing she announced. All in all, Vegeta considered this to be a great start for the day. In fact, he was so energized that he thought it a good time to put in some real work into his regimen in the gravity room—a regimen that he'd not been sticking to as of late. Even he wasn't immune to the effects of peacetime especially when it stretched out for so long. He spent a good part of the afternoon doing chores for Bunny mainly because he had nothing better to do. She eventually handed him an extensive grocery list and set him loose to find everything. Sure, he could call her if he became completely lost, but he would like to avoid that if possible. He hated acknowledging the fact that he had her number in the first place…

* * *

Dinner that day consisted of a brimming Bulma, a pouty Bra, and a weary Vegeta.

"Honey, I'm sure he means well," Bulma said to Bra as their daughter went on and on about Malachi's audacity to call her _twice_ yesterday.

"If he's so concerned, why didn't he bother calling me today?" Bra mused.

 _Finally gave up and cut his losses_ Vegeta thought bitterly answering her question. It was entirely possible.

"Did you want him to?" Bulma teased with a sly expression on her face.

"No!" Bra shouted with reddening cheeks, "He can just be a little more consistent, you know—it's weird to call once and then nothing the next day," she explained, trying not to angrily attack her food in the presence of Bulma.

"Well," Bulma said in a sly tone, "Did you give him the impression you _wanted_ him to call again? Kami knows guys are not blessed with the gift of intuition or subtleties."

"No," Bra answered with a frustrated sigh. "Truthfully, I probably scared him off, but I don't want to have to call _him_. That would be stupid _and_ desperate. Right, Mom?" Bra asked fishing for the other's approval. Then she continued when she didn't respond immediately. "Besides, a guy that gets scared off that easily isn't worth my time."

Bulma was grinning at her and glanced over at Vegeta. "I see; you want him to show a bit more fire."

An eyebrow rose on Vegeta's face after the look Bulma gave him. What was she getting at? Just then the doorbell rang.

"I'll get it," Bunny chirped from the other room.

A split second later, Vegeta was wondering who could actually be at the door. It was not a normal occurrence in the slightest. One look at Bulma and he knew she had no clue either.

"It's for you, pumpkin," Bunny said peeking her head into the dining room, "Looks like your cute boyfriend wanted to pay you a visit."

That was all it took for Bra to go zipping out the dining room. Vegeta couldn't tell if it was in delight or anger. He got his answer when he heard the shouting. The knowing look was on Bulma's face again and she tilted her head towards the ruckus indicating that she wanted to get closer so she could hear properly. Though it was unnecessary for Vegeta, he followed her anyway. They were in an adjourning room to the one Bra and Malachi were in.

"You have a lot of nerves coming here—you should have called!" she shouted.

"Well, you hung up on me twice, you tell me if I 'should have called'," Malachi answered almost immediately.

Malachi's voice was still smooth and cool. One would never guess that such a voice could evoke such emotional prowess during singing nor reach such high notes. His speaking voice was near nonchalant and deeper than expected.

"You didn't even _try_ to—"

"You have two times to do that to me," Malachi said his voice darkening in disdain, "Before I find some other method. I will _not_ be playing a game of phone tag with a woman I've known for a year now."

"Maybe you didn't get the message last time—I don't want to talk!"

"You're right—you don't want to talk; you want to argue."

"What's wrong—scared?" Bra said mockingly to the other.

"That's rich coming from you. One near-death experience because of you is quite enough for any sane person."

There was a pause and Bulma glanced at Vegeta worryingly.

"Did you come here to guilt trip me," Bra said in a now shaky voice as if she was on the verge of tears.

"No," Malachi said in a quieter tone, "Not at all. That's not—"

"Leave, Malachi."

"That's not what I came her for," Malachi insisted, ignoring her singular order. "I didn't come all this way to be kicked out so quickly."

"Maybe it's not safe for you here," Bra said haughtily. "Maybe you should have learned your lesson last time."

"I don't care what happened—"

"How can you not care?!" Bra yelled out in disbelief.

"Because I know you didn't mean it," Malachi said back smoothly, "Just like…" This was the first hint of nervousness in his tone, "I didn't mean to break it off with you."

"You don't do things accidentally, Malachi. Everything you do is deliberate, calculated and I was fine with that, really, as long as you loved me. I knew that you wouldn't decide to be with me unless you truly wanted to. You _decided_ to end things and you stated your reasons and now you waltz in here and say you want to forget all that."

"I'm just as capable of making mistakes as anyone else. And sometimes I can be rash and make decisions too quickly—I'm not perfect especially when it comes to this. I've never loved anyone the way I love you."

Vegeta almost cringed physically at the last statement and the fact that he had to hear it. Bulma was smiling openly now and her expression softer. He wondered if Malachi truly knew what he was saying as he uttered such words with ease. But then how many of his songs referred to just this concept? Maybe he was well aware of its meaning. How long before Vegeta understood it having been surrounded by it for so long?

"I'm doing this for your own good, Malachi," Bra said after a long, tense pause. "I want you to leave and never come back."

"Bra, what are you saying?" Malachi said with a hint of desperation.

"I'm telling you to leave. Do I have to repeat myself a third time?"

"You're not doing this for my own good—"

"I don't need you to analyze this—I need you to listen to me."

"I am listening—"

"Then leave," Bra interrupted.

"Let me finish!" Malachi said finally allowing the frustration to reach his voice.

"No," Bra said back quickly. "Leave before I make you and you know I can do it," she threatened.

"Has it come to that now? You're going to have to make me."

Then all Vegeta heard next was the sound of a body hitting the ground outside. He wasn't sure if Bulma heard as she looked at him with a confused look.

"Oh—I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Bra said in frantic tones as her voice moved further from them—she must have been a bit past the front door.

"No, no, stay where you are!" Malachi yelled clearly enraged, "Don't fucking move, I don't need your help." His voice had suddenly become terrifying, rough and filled with anger.

"Do you hear me! I don't need your damned help!"

Bra was crying now. "I told you to…I told you to…"

"I think I got your message loud and clear," he said only slightly less enraged.

Bulma was looking at Vegeta fully now. "Go help, Malachi," she said in low tones, "And I'll take care of Bra."

Vegeta nodded and the two of them entered the room with Bulma running to Bra and Vegeta making his way down the stairs to the solitary form of Malachi who was storming away. It was nothing for Vegeta to appear in front of the other startling him quite a bit.

"Ah, Mr. Vegeta," Malachi said half relieved, half annoyed as he placed a hand over his heart. Vegeta could hear it thumping rapidly. "I suppose dying of a heart attack is still on the table," he said with little humor.

"You seem well enough," Vegeta said as he looked the other over quickly.

"Good for me—now if you excuse me," Malachi said attempting to move passed him.

"Wait," Vegeta ordered.

"What is it, Mr. Vegeta," he said wearily.

"First of all, no one calls me 'Mr.' Vegeta. Secondly," Vegeta started with a huff, "Bra's behavior was inexcusable."

Malachi's shoulders squared at this, "I can't believe I'm hearing pity from you. I am _not_ to be pitied."

"You will watch your tone with me. I am not known for my patience," Vegeta said point blank.

Malachi took a deep breath at this. "My apologies, Vegeta. It seems I'm far too worked up for my own good," he replied evenly. "I think it is better if Bra and I gave each other space for the time being."

Vegeta did not stop him then as he walked passed him. He watched as the young man walked to his car with a sure, confident gait unblemished it seemed from Bra's beratement. His limp was gone finally and he did not look nearly as ridiculous walking.

His mind went back to the moment Bra must have shoved him out the door and the unbridled anger behind his tone. It was a deep, hidden anger that he concealed quite well. How could the same person who could smile so easily and even cry openly, have such a thing? Even Goku's righteous anger didn't quite compare. There was nothing righteous about it, just simple cold, deep vehemence. Only moments later, he recovered his control as if he had simply been "upset" and nothing further.

Maybe he was reading too far into things. The anger was there perhaps, but there seemed to be no rhyme or reason behind it in Malachi's case. Intrigued, Vegeta decided he would research a bit more into Malachi. There were things about him that did not add up and it was better to be informed than blindsided.


	6. Indoctrination

**Three months came and went and time was the healer of all things.** Bra had eventually forgiven Vegeta, telling him that Malachi had his own mind and was capable of making his own decisions. She appeared to have moved on with her life, already dragging another man along and calling him her boyfriend. Bulma remained unconvinced that Bra was completely fine. As for Vegeta, he tried to stay out of the whole thing. Key word was 'tried'.

In truth, Vegeta was looking forward to training Malachi. It was an agreement that transcended his relationship with Bra. Of course, he was only human, but it would also give him something purposeful to do as the long years of peace seemed to drag on and on. Wouldn't it be nice to say that he was capable of making a human even more powerful than the ones who were part of the Z-fighters? But maybe he was getting ahead of himself. Malachi had agreed to becoming a bit stronger so that he wasn't so easily injured, not the intense, grueling regimen it would take to make him a fraction of how strong Vegeta was. Maybe some baiting was required.

Vegeta was curious to see the limits of a human, to see if their energy differed in some inexplicable way, to see if there was some nuance he hadn't noticed before. A long-standing question he had after learning of Gohan's heritage was how it was that Saiyans and humans were compatible despite being so different. Clearly, they did not share a common ancestor if their planets existed so distantly from one another.

Dr. Briefs had described it as a classic case of parallel evolution and that there were many examples of it within animal species on Earth. Somehow, there was a sameness with how human and Saiyan ancestors had evolved over the ages. But to also be genetically compatible was a one in a million chance at least not without some medical manipulation. Bulma had been able to have Bra with surprising ease considering and it had all been natural.

Vegeta got a call from Malachi early in the morning right after Bulma had gone off to work. He'd gotten a clean bill of health from the doctor. They'd decided a while ago to conduct this training away from Capsule Corp. Malachi had a perfectly huge, secluded residence of his own that they could easily work with. Vegeta knew where this was and flew to it after he hung up the phone. There was an open window as usual and Vegeta climbed through it. Malachi was startled to see him so quickly.

"I didn't expect to begin today," Malachi said to the impatient Saiyan.

"Oh? Are you busy today then?" Vegeta asked mockingly.

Malachi was unperturbed by this, "Not particularly, but I _could_ have been. Three of the songs on my latest album have charted quite well."

Vegeta suddenly wanted to ask him about the bonus track on said album and if it pertained to cutting himself off from Bra, but that was out of the question. It would reveal that he listened to his music leisurely and the question itself was too touchy feely.

Malachi looked at him questioningly when Vegeta took a moment longer than usual to say something back.

"We will begin today on the basics of ki."

"We're _really_ starting right now?" Malachi asked in disbelief.

"Yes, now sit down on the floor there before I change my mind."

"Alright, alright," he said giving in, "Good thing I had breakfast already."

Malachi climbed off the bed and sat on the floor obediently.

"Close your eyes," Vegeta ordered. Malachi obeyed promptly. "I want you to completely ignore your surroundings. The only things that exist is my voice and you."

Vegeta waited as he paced silently before the youth. He waited for the other's breathing to slow and become more steady. After a few minutes, Vegeta squatted down next to the man and clapped really loudly in the other's ear, but he didn't flinch as Vegeta expected. He wasn't asleep; he was somewhere in between wakefulness and sleep—a meditative state.

Vegeta didn't think he'd achieve such a state so quickly and with ease. He must have had experience with it in the past maybe when Bra had taught him a thing or two.

"Feel the energy that exists within your body." Vegeta waited a few more minutes before continuing. There was no way of knowing if he was listening until the next step. "Now bring it forth."

In the snap of a finger, Vegeta felt the cool breeze of energy flowing forth and around Malachi. It was a clear mist, sparkling in the air. That same odd feeling came over Vegeta.

"Don't hold back."

Up until that moment, Malachi's face had been expressionless. Now his brow crinkled a bit as he brought more and more of his energy forth. His ki level didn't increase by much before he was sweating profusely and on the verge of fainting.

"Pathetic," Vegeta said drawing a frown from the other, "You're done for now—snap out of it."

His eyes opened and his energy disappeared instantly. If there was one good thing Vegeta could pull from the session, it would be that Malachi had surprising control over his ki. It had at no point become erratic and he had no issue drawing it forth.

He was panting as he looked at the other, "I've done this before," Malachi said, "It always ends the same."

"Obviously, you've not done it enough. Five seconds in and you're already spent—unacceptable."

"Then what do you propose I do?"

"You will repeat this exercise thrice daily equally spaced out from each other. The earlier you start, the more time you will have between each session. In between these sessions, you will train your body. We won't use the gravity room for obvious reasons, but you will do strength training."

"Oh, I see now; you plan on killing me slowly and painfully—it was the plan all along, wasn't it?"

"I'm being serious," Vegeta said curtly, "and I expect you to adhere to this regimen."

"Of course," Malachi said wearily.

Vegeta turned from the other, "And maybe you'll develop enough energy for me to actually work with. Your base energy level is laughable; you couldn't even form a proper power blast if you tried," Vegeta said rattling down a list of grievances.

Malachi was hardly listening as he'd already fallen asleep from exhaustion, his head bowed. With an exasperated sigh, Vegeta lifted him easily and tossed him onto the bed where he did not budge in the least. Vegeta would give him a couple hours before waking him.

Meanwhile, Vegeta surveyed the house for a good workout space. To his surprise, he found a small gym downstairs complete with a treadmill and other useless human contraptions. In the corner was a dusty rack of weights all the way up to 500 pounds. It was a start, but Vegeta suspected the other could barely get passed forty pounds. He thought of a useful addition to the gym and took a few minutes of his time to both buy and store it there for future use.

He soon further looked through the house to find reading material and found a decent library, but it was nothing like the one Bulma had filled with technical, scientific works. These were instead fictional tales from sci-fi to fantasy and a small section of sappy romance novels. Tired of television, he pulled out a book that wasn't from the romance section and began to read, sitting on the couch in the room. He accidently let three hours pass before jostling the man back to wakefulness.

"You again?" Malachi said tiredly, "I thought it was all just a bad dream—guess not."

"You asked for this. Don't tell me you're giving up already."

"No," Malachi grumbled.

"Then get up. Meet me in your exercise room. Don't make me wait."

Malachi nodded as Vegeta practically disappeared downstairs. Vegeta only waited a couple minutes before Malachi arrived in a different set of clothes.

"How much can you lift?" Vegeta asked immediately.

"Forty pounds," he said.

"You will lift forty-five pounds today."

"I should have seen that coming," Malachi said with a grin.

"Twenty reps of five. Now. Twenty on both arms."

Malachi gave no further protest as he began on the repetitions after picking up the weights. He single-mindedly focused on the exercise much to Vegeta's satisfaction. After he finished, Vegeta ordered him to do it again. On the last repetition, he simply let the dumbbells clatter to the ground, he was beginning to lose feeling in his hands.

"Alright, take a break, boy," Vegeta said seeing this.

He'd found what humans called a jump rope and decided that if Malachi could do this well, it could work for endurance training—Malachi needed much more endurance. When Vegeta felt his pulse return to normal levels, he tossed the jump rope at him and Malachi's reaction to catching it was terrible; his arms must have still felt heavy. Malachi's face lit up with a pleasant smile as he stood up with the jump rope. He held it with ease in his hands that were just able to clench again.

"You can do this well, I take it," Vegeta said noticing his reaction.

"I love jump roping," he admitted.

"You'll soon abhor it. Now begin and don't stop until I say."

Malachi looked at him wearily, but then began immediately. It was the first hint of speed and coordination that Vegeta had seen. He went at a good, constant speed, the rope tapping the floor all the while.

"Go as fast as you possibly can without relinquishing your rhythm."

When Vegeta uttered the word rhythm, he realized why Malachi seemed to excel at this. He increased his speed twofold and the rope began to generate a nice breeze. Speed was a good trait to have in someone who may not ever be able to match up energy wise. Vegeta zeroed in on the other's heartbeat to tell when he was truly exhausted. When his heartrate began to reach dangerous levels for a human, after an amazing thirty minutes, Vegeta told the other to stop and almost immediately Malachi fell to his knees panting and sweating profusely.

"Catch your breath. Remember this feeling of exhaustion. This is where I need you to be after each session," Vegeta stated.

Malachi nodded wearily as he laid back on the ground, chest heaving helplessly, sucking greedily at the air. "I see," he said between more manageable breaths, "Right before I think I'm going to drop dead form exhaustion."

Vegeta could only grin at him. "I have a present for you." This received a wary look from Malachi.

Behind the weight machine, Vegeta pulled out an upright standing punching bag.

"It's like I'm training to be some sort of boxer."

"You will be far better than a measly boxer. I'll teach you a few techniques and you will demonstrate them against this puny bag. Let me see what your punch looks like."

Malachi hesitated as he looked between the punching bag and Vegeta and then back at his own clenching hands. "Don't laugh," he finally said with a frown.

"No promises. Now show me, boy."

Malachi's fist lunged through the air as well as he could and Vegeta was practically rolling on the ground with laughter.

"It's like you're never punched a thing in your life!" Vegeta cried out between fits of laughter.

Malachi watched the other with growing annoyance. "I'm a lover not a fighter as they say."

"Doesn't look like you can do the first thing that well either," Vegeta said taking advantage of the open opportunity.

"I walked right into that," he said with a sigh.

"Now watch."

Vegeta struck the air with both precision and strength also slow enough so that Malachi could observe.

"Strike the punching bag just like that."

Malachi attempted this to the best of his ability. He gritted his teeth as his hand made contact with the unforgiving punching bag.

"With strength!" Vegeta barked.

"If I punch any harder, I'll be breaking all the bones in my hands," Malachi retorted steeling himself for Vegeta's anger.

Instead, Vegeta became silent and thoughtful. "I hadn't thought of that. You need some protective material around your hands and legs as well. Either that or use your ki as protection. Let's try the latter first."

Without being asked, Malachi summoned his ki easily as a light breeze flowed through the room and the air sparkled with a clear light. Then he began again on the punching bag with better results. Malachi paused for a moment, however, raising a questioning look from Vegeta.

"I feel like I'm wasting energy. I don't have very much to expend. What if I simply localize the use of it on my hands and nowhere else?"

"If you can manage it. It requires—" but Vegeta paused as the other ceased his expenditure of energy in its current from and concentrated it to his hands all within a blink of an eye.

"Nevermind then," Vegeta said, "Seems you can handle it."

Malachi struck the punching bag with more success until Vegeta stopped him and started him on kicking. More success, but Malachi could hardly keep this up for long before exhaustion set in, his energy spent.

He simply needed more energy to work with, Vegeta thought to himself exasperatedly as he watched Malachi's sprawled form on the ground. He would not improve unless he gained more raw energy. After he finished this day's toils Vegeta hoped to see some increase in energy even if it was minuscule. Expending one's energy as much as possible and resting seemed to have the same effect on humans as Saiyans except at a smaller scale.

"You hungry?" Malachi asked from the floor. "I'm _starving_. I'll make you something really nice. Isn't it lunch time?"

"You have enough energy for all that? Maybe I haven't been working you hard enough."

Malachi paled a little at that statement. "Oh no, I'm thoroughly exhausted. Cooking is second nature, remember? Takes no energy at all." He climbed to his feet painfully slow. "Besides, don't act like you're not interested, Saiyan."

Vegeta watched the other make his way unsteadily across the room and then out the door. Using the wall as support, Malachi made his way down the hall.

"Impressive," Vegeta said to himself watching the man's progress. He should not have been able to walk at all, but he supposed that it was mind over matter.

He didn't stop him until he made it to the dining room. At this point, Malachi was leaning his back against the wall, his eyes unfocused now.

"Sit down before you pass out," Vegeta ordered indicating the chair nearby.

Malachi wordlessly obeyed. With a table in front of him, he leaned his forehead against it.

"You're right—I was being silly. Let's just order out."

"A far more sensible plan," Vegeta said.

"What would you like, Vegeta?"

Malachi sat up straight in the chair when he was no longer in danger of losing consciousness.

"I'm not exactly picky—whatever you're getting."

"Pizza it is then—lot's of pizza."

Vegeta wondered if Malachi's fame had anything to do with the swiftness of service. Not even fifteen minutes had passed and thirty boxes of what Malachi had called "Supreme" pizza had arrived. Upon eating said pizza, he decided he liked this better than the usual pepperoni and cheese as it had more dimensions of flavor. Malachi consumed a surprising two large pizzas and Vegeta dug into the rest.

"Let's begin on the ki releasing exercise," Vegeta barked before the other could fall into the blissful sleep jolting the other to wakefulness again.

Vegeta wanted to see how much energy Malachi could recover in the short amount of time. Soon he was sitting cross-legged in the wide-open space of the central room and bringing forth his energy quickly.

"Don't hold back," Vegeta reminded the other sensing the other's hesitancy.

Vegeta was silently impressed when he felt a bit more energy than last time. Such swift recovery of energy was not something that came natural to a human if at all though Malachi had far less energy to recover in the first place. It had been thirty minutes since the last energy intensive activity and only a few moments after eating. A human's metabolism did not work as fast as a Saiyan's. In fact, it was quite snail pace even for a human in shape. Despite not having the chance to metabolize energy, Malachi had recovered a good portion. It was quite promising. When sweat began to form on Malachi's forehead, Vegeta called it quits, gave him a few moments of rest and went straight into physical training. Wash, rinse, and repeat.

By the time the end of the day arrived, he was in the personal gym sprawled on the floor, his eyes threatening to close once again.

"Eat first and then rest," Vegeta told the other.

"I'm not ordering out again," Malachi said determinedly, "Just give me a few minutes."

"If you want to starve to death, that's your prerogative."

Malachi grumbled at this. "Just let me rest for a few moments, alright?"

Vegeta stepped over the stubborn man and planned on exiting the room for the small library.

"Don't you dare touch my kitchen," he said with surprising force.

"Or what, human? How will you stop me?" Vegeta mocked though amused at the other's tenacity.

"I haven't thought that far…but I'll think of something," Malachi said wearily.

Vegeta laughed raucously at this and left the other to his thoughts. It didn't take long for him to arrive at the library and continue what he'd been reading before. Humans seemed to have a clear talent for telling stories in written form.

* * *

He must have gotten caught up in the text because he was momentarily startled when his nose picked up the scent of cooking food. He shook his head at this. Even after a full day of training? Cooking must not have been a chore, but more of a compulsion. It seemed to come as effortlessly as breathing. Remembering how he had been like before in the midst of preparing food in a partially drunken state, Vegeta supposed it wasn't too far from the truth.

The scent of food was too distracting to continue in his present endeavor so he set the book down and wandered over to the dining room where he could bask in the enticing scents. For some reason, he expected the other to have burst out into song while engaging in his task or at least humming like Bunny would sometimes do, but there was strangely only silence. All Vegeta heard was the sounds of utensils hitting dishes or pans and much sizzling and bubbling.

Vegeta heard the footsteps of Malachi approach the dining room and he was soon standing in the doorway with a bright smile.

"Like a bee to honey, I knew I'd find you here eventually."

"I may have to increase intensity if you really have this much energy left over," Vegeta said grinning with evil intent.

The devastated look on Malachi's face was well worth the jest; the bright smile now abandoned altogether.

"Don't be fooled by my façade, I'm bone tired. I had to rest a bit to even be able to do this."

"Calm your nerves, boy—I am well aware."

He might have been physically depleted, muscles worn out, but his energy was already beginning to return, he sensed. Vegeta wondered if this phenomenon would continue or decrease as he gained more energy. Was it a human trait or uniquely reserved to Malachi?

Malachi was soon bringing out plate after plate of food. Vegeta noticed he made more trips than usual on account of his inability to carry too much at one time. The dinner was made and then devoured. Like clockwork, Malachi began on the dishes and pots and pans, but at a pace much slower than yesterday.

"We're done for the day," Vegeta announced to the weary youth who was liable to fall asleep on his feet. "Be ready for tomorrow for more of the same."

Malachi nodded mutely probably too tired to come up with anything witty. He made his way passed Vegeta and the Saiyan listened to his traversal up the stairs and to his room. Instead of leaving immediately, he went back to the library to finish off the five-hundred-page tale. It took another couple hours of silent reading before he was able to close the book.

He felt Bra's presence soon after and then a knock at the door. Vegeta's eyebrows crinkled at this. What could she be doing here so late? Bra continued to knock with more and more impatience until she attempted another method to make entry. Malachi at this point was likely dead to the world and had no hope of hearing or responding to Bra's knocks.

She went directly to the open window. A fact that had plenty of implications. Perhaps Malachi wasn't being completely forthright about his relationship with her. She knew where his room was of course, Vegeta sensed, and went to it quickly. At this point, Vegeta was masking his ki and stepping quietly upstairs to hear what was going on. He didn't need to get too close to hear.

"Malachi, you didn't answer my knocks, jerk!" she shouted impudently, "I know we're not on good terms, but it's rude to ignore me—and why do you still have that window open, huh?"

Vegeta waited to hear a response form Malachi, but his soft snores remained uninterrupted.

"Malachi?" Bra said again.

There was still no response and soon Vegeta heard the creak of a bed, probably Bra sitting on it.

"I've never seen you _this_ tired before—working too hard again," she said almost to herself, but Vegeta could still hear.

Nothing more happened for a while and then Vegeta heard what sounded like a kiss.

"Sleep well," she said softly before exiting the room and escaping the same way she came in.

Well, Vegeta thought, perhaps Bra wasn't as done with him as she seemed. He waited and then exited the house. Bulma knew what Vegeta would be doing all day and did not make a fuss as he eventually joined her in bed.

* * *

 **AN** : I, in fact, do like reviews as do most writers. I would love to hear some feedback from my audience. Hopefully, you're enjoying the story. Don't worry, I have a lot more in store and I've almost decided on where I might end this story. Next chapter will be…excruciatingly long.

 **Jessica** : Malachi is most definitely human. When I read your first review, I vaguely thought of having him be different, but then decided the story would be more impactful if he remained human. Also, Malachi has _more_ money than Bulma. A world-wide famous pop star in his prime would make far more money than a scientist of any kind. Think of the most brilliant scientist alive today—they're not bringing in as much capital as an entertainer. However, there's far more longevity in Bulma's profession.

Also, I kinda forgot about senzu beans, but it would look strange publicly if he healed that quickly. There's a persona he must keep up for everyone and I doubt the Z-fighters want the rest of the world to find out about senzu beans. (Or something like that—it's kinda a plothole, but, hey, DBZ is known for that kind of thing, right?)

 **Random Guest Person** : Thank you. I was going for that.

 **SierraLarson** : I do see the whole "GT kids" pairing a lot. I don't mind them; I just wanted to try something a little different. Glad you're warming up to it. Speaking of Trunks, I have some plans for him. Wonder what he's doing these days?

 **WildHeart44** : Me too.


	7. Nurturing the Weakling

**Bra came back the very next night or at least Vegeta was certain she did as he did not sense her in the house when he returned home.** Every time he came to Malachi's house, the youth never mentioned Bra. He wondered if he even knew of her nightly visits; he seemed focused on training. After the first week, Vegeta's presence was almost not needed as he continued the same regimen.

Malachi's energy level steadily began to increase though not as quickly as Vegeta thought. Despite that, Malachi was improving rapidly with his stamina and strength. He noticed by the third week that he wore gloves for his hands and greaves for kicking. He used his energy quite efficiently and sparingly. He understood that he did not have much to spare and sought to extend its use. The addition of protective material meant he did not have to expel so much of his energy to protect himself. Instead of simply dousing both his hands and feet in that energy constantly, he waited until the precise moment of impact to bring forth his ki. It was a level of control that could not be mastered so easily. It was unnecessary for a Saiyan as they had so much ki to spare. Vegeta wondered if it came to the other naturally or if he spent extra time training. Either way, it was impressive.

Vegeta was there when he finally achieved enough strength to break open the punching bag. It was during the third day of the fourth week. Malachi's base ki level had not increased by much, but he was capable of achieving more than he had in the past. The real question was, could he now produce a power blast? The next day, Vegeta decided to change things.

Malachi was outside when Vegeta arrived so that he could bring forth his aura without damaging household items.

"I think you're ready to learn a few useful skills—"

"Like how to fly?" Malachi asked.

Vegeta grinned at this, "Humans and their fascination with flight. No, you're going to learn something far more useful: power blasts. I must first see if you can form one with ease now that you have more control and more of it to use."

Malachi held out his palm. "That should be fairly simple."

Very quickly a small clear power blast formed there in his palm. There was no extra ki expelled as a misty sphere shimmered while levitating in his hand.

"Is that the best you can do?" Vegeta asked.

"Yes, actually," Malachi said with a frown, "If I plan on doing more than one."

"Hmph, watch closely then."

Vegeta slowed down the process considerably so that the other could see. He formed a ki blast and sent it flying towards the ground where it ignited quickly with fire and smoke. Malachi's eyes widened at this.

"I suppose you really can disintegrate people," Malachi said looking at the other sideways.

"Your underestimation of my power is appalling," Vegeta retorted.

Vegeta was used to Malachi's fascination with the new things he showed him, but in this instance, he had become solemn.

"You could destroy this entire planet with ease," Malachi stated rather than asked. His eyes were trained on the scorched earth. "Here we are so concerned about our own destruction: atomic bombs, incessant warring of nations, global warming, a random solar flare even and all along there were beings here who could have put us all out of our misery long ago. Earth seems to always be teetering on an edge, that edge apparently being the mercy of those more powerful."

Vegeta could not say anything to ease the other's mind. His silence, however as usual, didn't make it better. Malachi with his palm turned upward simply sent the small misty ball to collide with the ground. A smaller explosion occurred. Some dirt and grass went into the air as opposed to complete disintegration. Malachi gazed at his hand as if he was seeing it for the first time.

"Such destructive power. Had humans discovered the use of their energy in this way, we would have destroyed ourselves long ago," he said clenching his hand into a fist.

"Are you having second thoughts about this training?" Vegeta asked sensing a shift in attitude.

"Quite the opposite," he said looking at the other. "I'm far more motivated. Maybe one day," he said with a grin, "I'll be able to defeat you."

Vegeta snorted at this, "Even weaklings must have their aspirations. There are _humans_ stronger than you let along Saiyans."

"If it were easy, it wouldn't be a challenge. Besides, I understand this ki fully now. After that demonstration, everything just clicked."

"Yet you don't know how to fly."

"I've seen you fly plenty of times before. You used your ki to counteract the natural effects of gravity—like this."

Vegeta watched the other levitate briefly from the ground and then touch down. At least it was one thing to cross off the list of things to teach.

"I understand everything," Malachi found himself saying. "It's like that moment when I understood the power of music and used it to my advantage. In time, I believe I will have figured out a way to best use my energy in the most efficient way possible—it seems entirely within reach."

"We shall see," Vegeta said watching the other carefully. "No matter how much control you have, however, a person with far more energy would win every time with sheer strength and speed."

"I'm sure there's some way around that," Malachi replied nonchalantly. He squatted down now.

Vegeta watched with a raised eyebrow as the other raised his palm again as if to release a straight on power blast. A blade of grass twirled around into the air and then two more joined until they became as still as statues. Vegeta had almost forgotten the telekinetic properties of ki—it wasn't something he used often unless it was to direct energy to a certain location. Ominously, the blades of grass browned and crumbled away and Vegeta hardly felt the release of enough ki to disintegrate it.

"In something so simple, it is possible to disrupt its molecular structure to catastrophic levels. Doesn't require much ki to do so. Only, such damage isn't exactly reversible."

Vegeta wondered what he had just witnessed. He didn't like the implications of such a feat. Up until that moment, Vegeta thought he'd simply settled with training a weakling human—it would do for a distraction. He would have to be patient, explain things clearly and reiterate, reiterate, reiterate just like he had done with Trunks years ago. But this person before him was no longer solely a weakling, but a _clever_ one.

On first explanation, Malachi seemed to capture that information and forever keep it in mind. Now, it seemed he had enough knowledge to begin figuring things out on his own. Vegeta wasn't quite used to that. Already, Vegeta felt as if he'd told the other all there was to learn and it had only been a month. He knew what exercises he needed to continue to help increase his ki and to improve his physical strength. Vegeta had been teaching him to fight all along. Now all that was needed was actual sparring. Combat had never been an overcomplicated thing in the first place. His own father hadn't spent much time training him. After imparting to him the few basic forms of technique, the rest came simply from experience. There wasn't a specific name to his own technique—it was adaptive and depended entirely on the one he was fighting.

Vegeta looked at the other now fiddling with gravel and then with more blades of grass. Could he be ready for the next step so soon—this weakling?

"A penny for your thoughts," Malachi said after a while when the other had remained silent for too long.

Vegeta was interrupted from his engrossing musings at the sound of his voice. Malachi still wasn't looking his way but concentrating on his technique. "You've come a long way in a short time," he began.

"Careful, that almost sounds like a compliment," Malachi said with a grin as he stood up and looked at the other.

"Don't interrupt me," Vegeta barked with a scowl. "I am only stating facts. Continue with your strength training and your fighting technique and soon you will be ready for sparring."

"Sparring? Like a mock fight?" Malachi said perking up, "Against you?"

Vegeta snorted at this, "I don't have the patience for that sort of thing. I have some other person in mind who will be more your speed."

Vegeta intentionally left out revealing who the person was as he hadn't even talked to the guy yet. He admittedly was terrible with keeping up with the goings-on of the other Z-fighters and leastly Krillin. In fact, even to this day, Vegeta had never willingly visited him or hung out. They could hardly be called friends. How weird it was going to be to visit him now of all times.

"Oh, I see," Malachi replied with excitement glinting in his dark eyes, "I'll have to perfect a few things until then."

"This will be no walk in the park—expect to lose your sparring sessions. It is simply a tool to improve your fighting ability. The only way to teach this is by experience."

"Trying to scare me? I got your warning. I am always alert when doing new things so there's nothing to worry about."

"We shall see, boy. Show me that I'm not simply wasting my time."

With that last thought, Vegeta was soon flying off into the air leaving Malachi to his training. He would check on the boy periodically to make sure he was adhering to the schedule. He would keep close tabs on him through ki signature. By this time, Vegeta had become acclimated to Malachi's ki signature so that he stood out from the other billions of humans.

There were a few things that Vegeta had planned to do that day and on the top of that list was meeting with the baldy (a baldy who was no longer bald, but old habits die hard). It was sad that he had no idea where the man lived. He hoped finding him amidst the humans would be a bit easier and—yes, right there, an unmistakable blip on his radar.

Vegeta touched ground to find himself standing in front of a house that looked maddeningly similar to the houses on either side. There was a small front yard surrounded by a white picket fence and a small garden of flowers grew right outside the pristine porch.

Vegeta was immediately disgusted with the very atmosphere but at the moment, he decided that it behooved him to have a bit of patience, he just hoped it held out long enough to get this over with. He strolled up the steps and knocked on the door. He couldn't sense anyone near the front so he was momentarily startled when the door opened. He'd nearly forgotten 18's lack of a ki signature.

She already looked pissed upon seeing him. He took a quick look at her. She seemed to have not aged at all only with shorter hair. Her clothes, however, made her appear older.

"What do you want?" she asked without pretense.

There was no surprise, no "hey, haven't seen you in ages." Just an overwhelming feeling that she did not want him there. He hadn't forgotten the time she'd kicked his ass royally, but he'd not seen fit to repay her. After all this time and plus the fact that he knew he was much stronger than her now, he no longer felt like dwelling on his defeat.

"Wanted to speak with Krillin."

"He's not here," 18 said immediately and was about to close the door on his face, but Vegeta put a hand out to stop the door.

"Try again—did you forget I can sense him?"

"I'm sure you have nothing good to say to him. Do me a favor and just leave already."

"I didn't come all this way for this sort of a thing. I have a request for your husband—he can refuse if he likes."

18 stood with her arms crossed studying his face. Then with a sigh, she opened the door wider and turned her head slightly to call for Krillin. No doubt, Krillin must have sensed him—Vegeta had made no attempt at hiding his presence. Soon Krillin was padding over to them. 18 stood aside, but did not leave. Vegeta didn't feel like going through all the rigmarole of trying to have a _private_ word with Krillin. It was either now or never.

"I'll just get right to the point. I'm training a weakling human and I need someone to spar with him without breaking him in half."

Krillin stood there looking at him as if he couldn't quite believe the words coming out of his mouth. "Wait a minute, you're training somebody?—and a human at that? Never thought I'd see the day—or did someone blackmail you into it," he said with the beginnings of a smile.

"No, just a…'family friend'," Vegeta said and then regretted saying it when the other broke into a real smile.

"Really? I would love to meet the guy you actually called 'friend' out loud," Krillin said with a laugh.

Vegeta scowled at this, "So will you do it or not?"

"Of course man—you know, I still train. Never know when next we gotta' fight," Krillin said in a mock secretive tone, "If you ask me, this peacetime has gone on for a really long time, we're overdue for—"

"Idiot, don't say it out loud," Vegeta growled, "You'll jinx us."

Krillin laughed again, "That was an incredibly _human_ thing to say. How's the wife and—"

Vegeta scowled and interjected, "Fine. Now that you've agreed—I think it best we pick a time and place."

"Hey, whatever's good for you. I can make time for just about anything."

"Two days from now, evening. I'll raise my ki so that we will be easy to find."

"Alright, gotcha. Anything I should know beforehand?"

Vegeta was still scowling, but let his guard down a little, deep in thought. "I don't usually say this, but go easy on him. This will be his first spar. He's…clever, but has no real combat experience."

"I'd like to meet this person as well," 18 said finally. "If he's interesting enough for you, then this should be entertaining at least."

"Come if you want, it won't last long anyway," Vegeta said back.

He was simply glad that he managed to pull this off. In his usual avoidance of needlessly setting off the android, he simply accommodated her. Besides, the two of them seemed a bit inseparable. Vegeta never understood how their relationship worked, but he was certainly no expert when it came to matters of love and emotions. Vegeta left them abruptly and returned home.

Krillin's mention that Earth was severely lacking in challenges on its existence, put Vegeta on edge. It was as if he pulled the words right from his own mind. He wondered if the rest of the Z-fighters felt the same. There was no need to become superstitious, but it was better to be safe than sorry. He trained that evening just to reassure himself that were something to occur he would be ready.

Bulma was not at dinner that day—a thing that was becoming a habit—and Bra was spending who knows how many days with Marron. The two were near inseparable; he wasn't surprised with the news. He ate his dinner by himself listening to the sounds of Bunny watching some comedic sitcom complete with fake laughter. He was done quite quickly and out of utter boredom, washed the piling up dishes including pots and pans. It was a no-brainer having seen people do it in the past. He, of course, did not make a habit of doing them as he was a prince and such activities were below him. However, admittedly, today it was just simply relaxing and it passed the time. He wondered what the look on Bunny's face might be when she found her kitchen spotless, but it wasn't something he wanted to stick around for.

He wiped all the counters down, then the stove including the door, and then the cabinets as they were looking a bit neglected. Vegeta couldn't help but feel some pride in how the kitchen now seemed to gleam. Vegeta turned and almost ran headlong into Dr. Briefs.

"Oh, I'm sorry, my boy, thought I head Bunny in here."

A slight blush came over his face when he thought of the implication. He closed his eyes, "She's in the living room," he replied gruffly and walked passed the old man.

He made a beeline to his bedroom where he found himself wide awake and unable to sleep. He closed his eyes hoping this might incite sleep. It was only a light one as Bunny's laughter from so far away easily awoke him. Then he was just staring at the ceiling.

Where was Bulma? Or a better question as he knew exactly where she was—what was keeping her this time? Barging into her labs almost always turned out badly and he was sure she must have some good reason that she was there. He sat up in bed thinking for a moment, then he got up quickly and opened the door to the balcony staring wistfully into the distance. He eventually set off into the sky.

He wandered aimlessly for a while but then for whatever reason wound up near Malachi's residence—perhaps he'd meant to go there all along. He slipped through the window as always knowing that the owner of the house was not asleep, but downstairs.

All the lights were off making the glow from the television downstairs more pronounced.

"Warning. This episode contains content that may be disturbing to some viewers. Viewer discretion is advised," a man's voice said in dark tones.

This message did not seem to deter the man sitting there on the couch who had already made himself comfortable, legs crossed, head propped up on a raised arm on the armrest. Vegeta decided to make his presence known at that moment as he stepped into the other's peripheral.

Vegeta was amused by the other's reaction as he nearly leaped out of his couch in panic.

"Geez, man, you have to stop doing that," Malachi said almost breathless as he held a hand over his fluttering heart.

"And here I thought you had learned to sense ki signatures."

"You can do that? Well, I suppose that makes sense come to think of it…"

"What are you doing up so late?" Vegeta asked.

"Couldn't sleep—wait a minute, shouldn't I be the one asking you about your sudden presence here? If you must know, I've been doing everything just like you taught me."

"I know," Vegeta said taking it upon himself to join the other on the couch albeit on the other side.

"Oh yeah, of course, barge in, make yourself comfortable," Malachi said sardonically.

"Sounds like you're watching something interesting," Vegeta continued unperturbed.

"Well, I _was_. I was just about to turn in for the night," Malachi said looking away.

Vegeta could tell immediately that he was lying and not doing a good job at hiding it. He seemed embarrassed and that piqued Vegeta's interest.

"What the hell are you watching anyway?" Vegeta watched the other stiffen at this, drawing an amused grin from him. "More cooking?" Vegeta pestered.

"Not…quite," Malachi said annoyingly nonspecific.

"I don't like repeating myself."

"So I've noticed," Malachi said affording him a glance. Then he sighed and settled back down into his couch. Since you're _so_ curious, I suppose I have no choice," he said with a defeated sigh.

It was morbid curiosity at this point as Malachi unpaused the video. Vegeta saw that the title read _The Cheshire Home Invasion_. A man with a dark, full beard, and equally black eyes contrasting starkly with his pale skin began speaking in dark tones about the unfortunate events of the Petit family.

Vegeta became engrossed in the story, his retelling allowing him to step into the shoes of others, allowing his mind to wonder what the world felt like to lesser, weaker beings. The family was not unlike his own only they had two daughters.

Vegeta watched as the story became more and more terrifying as the women were raped and killed. The only thing that brought him back to reality was Malachi's quiet "Really?" comments. The husband had survived and later started another family of his own much like the one he had lost though he was not without scars.

The husband, he realized, had the kind of strength he may not even possess. He thought of something similar happening to Bulma and Bra somehow and as his fists clenched, he did not want to even imagine how he would react. He certainly could not think of moving on. He'd be in so much misery that—

"Well? Did you like it?" Malachi asked interrupting his darkening thoughts.

"Is this really what you watch this late at night?"

"I know it's odd, but—"

"I assumed humans avoided such thing before bed."

"Most do," Malachi replied umblemished, "Unless, of course, you enjoy this sort of thing."

"You enjoy watching the misfortune of others?" Vegeta replied in all seriousness, curious how the other would reply.

"These are events that have already happened and there's nothing more anyone can do to improve the situation. Then it becomes more like a story. It is simply morbid curiosity. You're trying to figure out why these things happened, but none of it quite makes sense. Then you watch another and that also makes little sense. There are no conclusions to be made and yet you continue to watch. Even what we just watched, there are far easier ways to steal from another, but these two idiots took the path of _most_ resistance. Wearing masks and nondescript clothes would have eliminated the need to kill the residents. Also, killing took a lot of effort in the way that they went about it. If your main objective was to 'steal valuables', why did you waste time raping and killing of all things? The longer you stayed there, the more likely it was that you were caught. And who just snaps like that? I can see getting angry, I can see beating someone down perhaps, but the rape part—that is not something you do in a blind rage. Nothing was adding up and surely this couldn't have been the plan they _must_ have worked out beforehand. Surely, part of it was escaping unscathed."

"You're trying to apply logic to those who clearly lack it," Vegeta said. "At some point, those idiots decided that they needed money and their scheme continued to devolve from there. Truth is, there are far too many earthly systems in place to ever require that someone resort to such a level of violence to obtain what they think they so desperately need. Stealing wasn't their real objective, Malachi, as you can see from their actions. It was a thinly veiled excuse to feed their own dark desires and they themselves were trying to make sense of it by tricking themselves into thinking it was anything else besides."

"Well…when you put it that way…" Malachi said slowly, "But still, it doesn't make sense."

"It's not supposed to and let's hope it never does."

"I'm the one who's supposed to understand people's emotions to such a degree that I can then emulate and present it to the masses and I'm supposed to in turn take them to that place of understanding."

"You're speaking of your music?"

Malachi nodded at this, "Everything in my life revolves around it. Most people think that I simply draw from experience when a song is created, that it must be revealing something about myself. That's not always the case. I watch others and I give my interpretation to what it is they're feeling. My observations are objective so that no one feels alienated. It is a process that can be repeated with ease and allows for especially poignant albums. Anything else would be unsustainable. The artist who bases it on their own feelings and experiences alone only captures the hearts of few and then burn out when their own remarkably small pool of inspiration dries up.

"But here watching these videos—I simply cannot interpret their state of mind. Like you said, let's hope it stays that way," Malachi concluded. "You wouldn't be opposed to…watching another?"

"No, I wouldn't," Vegeta replied admittedly, "Now get on with it already. Let's not psychoanalyze everything."

"Sorry, I'm usually not that talkative."

Without further ado, Malachi unpaused the video and the selection moved on to the next one in the playlist. Vegeta had been through a lot in his lifetime, but he had been born a Saiyan, a being that naturally had a high tolerance for pain and torture. Most Saiyans were remarkably sane despite popular belief and had equally strong mental stability. At the end of the day when he was so bruised that he could hardly move, he knew that he would survive. No matter how difficult it became, he could fool himself into thinking he could survive anything—he was a Saiyan and they had that reputation. He would become stronger as well.

What if that security had been taken from him? However small, it had made a difference to him. True terror would have set in and he doubted his own survival. That doubt would have destroyed him. He had worn his pride like a shield. He could be proud of his own heritage, of their merits. Could he have done the same as a human? The average human would have been at the mercy of the sadistic bastards who took it upon themselves to do others harm. And humans, though weak, could become quite twisted, their minds susceptible to such things. Some were simply born that way, some were a product of their unfortunate environment, all of them possessed an intangible seed of darkness and it was as if none of them knew right from wrong.

He watched in fascination. Those were not simply made up or some gory horror movie (something he watched with impunity). He could shield himself with the fact that it was not real and that it did not _look_ real. Here he could not say that—it was enough to make most people paranoid. These "peaceful" humans were not without their faults. Peaceful couldn't even begin to describe them, more like a species of organized chaos. What would Goku say if he saw this?—the poor, innocent weaklings who were just as likely to destroy themselves as any foreign entity. It was no wonder humans weren't as advanced as other alien races despite having geniuses living among them—there was too much discord from within. Humans lacked a certain togetherness that he'd seen everywhere else and it was a characteristic that seemed unique to them. There was no official human language simply a plethora of languages. They seemed to split and divide and even celebrate the minute differences in them. Simply living a few miles away suddenly created a new "culture". A subtle change in one's DNA—hair color, skin pigmentation—was considered foreign from another person who did not exhibit the other's exactly. He supposed considering such a society that it was possible to feel isolated and alone even while being surrounded by one's own race.

Vegeta glanced over at Malachi who now wore an unreadable mask. He recognized it immediately; it was a mask he had donned countless times when he was either deep in thought or simply did not feel like disclosing whatever it was he was experiencing. Vegeta suspected it was the former. Three more videos went by, two about massacres, and the last one about a truly demented old lady who murdered her entire family. Vegeta supposed he should be concerned about his daughter's potential mate spending so much time watching disturbing videos at the darkest hours of the night, but he wasn't. He sensed no ill will from Malachi, simply a natural curiosity about everything, a need to ponder on things. He was extremely open with himself yet guarded in the same breath in part due to his insistent objectivity in most situations. Despite this, Vegeta knew instinctively that he could be trusted, a sentiment he would not voice out loud. On paper, he distrusted everyone as a rule and he acted accordingly save for his family.

As the fourth video began, Vegeta noticed Malachi's head lolling to the side—he'd fallen asleep. Vegeta wondered if it was a pattern that the other would always fall asleep in his presence. Granted he "visited" at late hours, before he had claimed to be restless but it hadn't taken much for him to be the opposite. His hair had fallen into his face and his breath had deepened considerably. Vegeta could not follow in suit as he truly was restless. Instead, he sat through a dozen more videos which were admittedly addicting to watch. What other dark, horrific things occurred in human society? He had to tell himself to stop when it became 3 in the morning. Carefully, Vegeta nabbed the controller from Malachi's grasp. He did not stir from his slumber. It was the controller of a gaming console, but Vegeta had used his fair share of those via Trunks and was able to navigate the screen quite efficiently.

To sate his sense of irony, Vegeta went to Malachi's channel on the video service being used at present and started play a music video. It was a slower, somber song about a woman he longed for and the plans he had for their lives…if only she would reciprocate. A desperate sounding song for sure, but that was one of his more popular ones. The man was totally unabashed in his singing. Vegeta wouldn't be caught dead admitting such things aloud and watching someone else do it was almost painful. Vegeta was glad it all worked out according to the music video. Then he wanted to watch something more upbeat and chose a song that he knew fit the bill. He glanced over at Malachi for good measure and found that he was so deeply asleep that he'd begun snoring though not loud enough to distract him.

Vegeta stayed up a couple more hours before he finally called it quits as his energy began to wane. Feeling some pity for the other, he pushed Malachi onto the long couch until he was laying down completely flat. At least he wouldn't have a painful crick in his neck come morning.

"Vegeta…" he mumbled in his sleep with a creased brow. The rest of the sentence was non-intelligible.

He turned off the television and took his leave. He didn't actually get any sleep until the sun was peeking out for a new day and Bulma had already scrambled out in a big rush to get to work. Vegeta knew it was going to be one of those days where he did absolutely nothing as he used the comforter to shield from the penetrating sunrays. He turned off the television and took his leave. He didn't actually get any sleep until the sun was peeking out for a new day and Bulma had already scrambled out in a big rush to get to work. Vegeta knew it was going to be one of those days where he did absolutely nothing as he used the comforter to shield from the penetrating sunrays.

* * *

 **AN:** Man, it's pretty difficult to edit your own work. I tried to catch all the typos and grammatical errors, but you know how that goes. Laptop was also acting funny too, but I'm glad to finally have this out. It looked longer written out, but it's not too much more longer than my other chapters. Get ready for some action next chapter.

 **S** **ierraLarson** **:** When you put it that way, they're probably stupid rich far more than Malachi. It's never been said they were the richest family as far as I know, but I've never watched Dragon Ball or read the manga. I may have to edit that convo in that earlier chapter.

 **WildHeart44:** I love Supreme pizza too by the way or anything pizza really. Glad you enjoyed and I always liked the idea of Vegeta pulling out a book even though we never see it in the show although I've seen it quite often in other fanfictions. Malachi training montage! Lol.

 **GuestPerson:** And I can't wait to write it!


	8. First Taste of Combat

Vegeta had informed Malachi yesterday that he'd be sparring with a chosen human warrior and he'd received the news well. It seemed Malachi was just as anxious for this fight as Krillin. He'd chosen a secluded island. Vegeta didn't think a mere spar would become so intense as to require it, but it was better to be safe than sorry as they say.

He was there before everyone else as he calmly observed the crashing waves on the jarring rocks of the shore. He figured Krillin and his mate would be arriving first and then lastly Malachi, but he had not counted on Bra's presence. His brow creased in bemusement as he sensed her rapid approach.

"Dad!" Bra yelled from the distance and she sounded angry.

Vegeta couldn't for the life of him figure out what was upsetting as she stomped towards him after she landed.

"You can't do this—you have to cancel this right now!"

"What are you going on about?" Vegeta asked to the riled woman.

"You know exactly what," Bra accused him. "This stupid spar. I forgave you last time for meddling with my relationship with Malachi, but I won't do it again! Do you really hate him that much?"

"Bra," Vegeta began exasperatedly. What was he going to say?—that it wasn't his idea, that he _hadn't_ convinced the other that this was a good idea. He knew one thing, however, this had not been out of hate. "The boy agreed—"

"Well, yeah, of course. He's too busy trying to kiss your ass. It's bad enough you have him training all the time—now this?"

"I'm not forcing him to do anything—"

"Because you've obviously blackmailed or brainwashed him, take your pick."

"That will be the last time you interrupt me," Vegeta said with a scowl. This quieted her. "I would not waste my time training a weakling human unless I thought him worthy—that is something he wanted to do. He wanted to become stronger." Bra looked away when he said that, "This is simply the next logical step. You can either stand in the way or let things go their course."

"What's 'go their course'," Bra said in quieter tones.

"It's a spar, Bra," Vegeta said exasperatedly, "Not a fight to the death."

"Against who?" Bra demanded.

"Krillin," he said singularly.

"Krillin!" Bra shouted in panic, "Dad, Malachi, he's…"

"Fragile?" Vegeta said with a frown, "Too weak? He's not like us? I promise you, I'm not sending him off to his death. He's been trained properly."

"Then why does he have to do this? Training, that's all he wanted, not to become a fighter like you guys."

Bra had a point. It had been his intention to become stronger. By now, it was simply a loosely veiled reason to do anything beyond that, but surely Malachi knew that by now. The man could think for himself and could have easily refused to do any sparring whatsoever. Just when Vegeta was at a loss for what to say, Malachi touched down onto the island and Bra's attention was immediately taken off of him.

He wore a bright smile upon seeing her—a smile Vegeta suspected he used to melt many women, but it would not help him here. "Good morning, lovely seeing you here today."

"Don't 'good morning' me—this is one of the worst ones yet! I told you _not_ to do this, but of course, you come anyway."

"I might have listened were I one of your pets, but as it were I'm an actual person who doesn't like to be ordered around."

Vegeta thought Malachi's presence might calm Bra, but he was doing the exact opposite. Vegeta hadn't been paying much attention to the particulars of their relationships, but perhaps things weren't as rosy as he assumed.

Bra had crossed the distance to Malachi in record time. Once there, she grabbed the hem of his dark shirt with both hands—a move like that would have certainly forced the other into submission in the past, but instead he simply stood upright as if she was trying to move a ton of bricks. Vegeta was sure this wasn't lost on Bra.

"You _will_ listen to me, Malachi. You don't have to prove yourself to anyone, not my father, not even me. This is just plain stupid and you should just forget the whole thing!"

By now, Malachi was no longer smiling. "You almost sound concerned for my wellbeing." With this, he took his shirt away from her grasping hands with ease and walked a little ways from her. "The best thing you can do right now is stand back and watch."

Vegeta could feel Bra's emotions rippling from shock and ashamed to frustration and then back to shame.

"Bastard," Bra said loud enough for Malachi to hear.

She said nothing more as Malachi made his way to Vegeta and she stood apart from them. Vegeta felt her eyes burning holes into his back. He refused to get in the middle of their spat so he made no attempt in responding to her. Eventually, Malachi had no more to say either as he merely glanced at Vegeta with a silent nod as a greeting—no 'good morning' or inquiring as to who he would be sparring today or any attempt at gathering any vital information. Vegeta suspected he would have had Bra not been there silently seething. Despite his display, Malachi probably did not want to set her off any further. Instead they stood in a tense silence until 18 and Krillin finally showed up—they were "fashionably" late it seemed.

Their presence did wonders with lightening the mood. 18 seemed content and supportive of Krillin and Krillin himself wore his old orange gi that Vegeta had not seen in ages. The man was obviously excited about the whole arrangement. They didn't seem to register Malachi's presence until a few moments later and it was 18 who reacted first. She looked to be in shock as she looked from Vegeta to Malachi thrice.

"Wait a minute—I must be seeing things," 18 said now staring at Malachi.

Vegeta hadn't expected this sort of reaction from 18, but then he kept underestimating Malachi's fame or simply dismissing it altogether.

"Good morning, a pleasure to meet you," he said giving her quite the winning smile, the kind that could put even the grumpiest person into a grudgingly content mood.

That was all it took to melt 18 into a gushing fangirl, at least as gushing as a phlegmatic android could become. Soon the android was embracing him in a near suffocating hold.

"You know I have _all_ your albums and your new one was…excellent," 18 said in a voice of barely contained excitement.

"Well, good…glad to meet…a fan of my work," he managed between hard-won breaths.

"Alright, honey, let's not crush the guy," Krillin said tapping her on the shoulder.

He barely finished this before a now thoroughly enraged Bra was storming towards them.

"Hey, hands _off_ , freak!"

Malachi was now long forgotten as 18's attentions were on Bra.

"Sounds like you need to be taught some lessons in manners, little girl," 18 said back huskily.

"Little girl?!" Bra shouted, "I'll show you who's _little_ , old woman!"

18 was already powering up and instinctively so was Vegeta who knew Bra could not possibly face 18, but even more, he simply could not bear to see his daughter get hurt.

"Stay out of this, Saiyan. You're the reason she's so spoiled and ill-mannered in the first place."

"You take that back," Vegeta growled.

"Please, you know it's true."

Malachi hadn't interjected at all as 18 was badmouthing Bra, Vegeta noticed, and he was still silent.

"Nothing to add," Vegeta said to Malachi a bit incensed by his lack of reaction.

Malachi looked at him with a raised eyebrow and a look of disinterest. "As my nonexistent mother used to say, if you don't have anything good to say, don't say it at all," he said with a shrug.

"Seems like you know her well," 18 said with a knowing look.

"You bastard," Bra yelled out though her eyes had become moist. "I can't believe you…" she continued, her voice now hoarse.

Malachi looked away obviously unsettled by the sight, but he did not attempt to comfort her. Vegeta was the only one who did as he lost what fight he had in him and soon she was blubbering into his chest unabashed.

"Daddy," Bra said in hushed tones, "h-he's right, isn't he? H-He hates me, doesn't he?"

Vegeta simply held her as her shaking began to ease off. Finally, she pulled away from him, her blue eyes now looking directly at him.

"Thank you." Her eyes were no longer on him as she looked upward.

Vegeta realized without even turning that the fight had already begun in earnest. Soon, he too was watching. This was what he had come here for: a good fight between two humans.

Only for a split-second did it seem like Malachi had the upper hand—he had attacked first, but his inexperience showed as Krillin easily evaded the other's initial punches and sent him quickly on the defensive as Krillin retaliated with his own skillful lunges. They were already in the air as Krillin sent the other plummeting to the ground. The impact had been significant enough to kick up some dust and debris. It took a moment to see the condition of Malachi.

"Hey, you okay, man?" Krillin called from above and then descending closer to Malachi's point of landing.

"Yeah, fine," Malachi bit back determinedly.

He was standing again already, but it took a moment for Vegeta to see the extent of damage. His usual perfect, straight hair was roughed up some. There were skids and scratches all about his clothes including his face which blood flowed from, but all of these were minor injuries in Vegeta's opinion.

"Malachi," Bra said worriedly under her breath, "He's hurt."

Vegeta glanced at her and she seemed genuinely concerned despite the superficial wounds.

"We can stop here if you want," Krillin clarified to the other as he looked down at him.

"I said I'm fine," Malachi said heatedly, "Unless you're too scared to continue."

"Alright, your call," Krillin said with a shrug.

Vegeta could see hesitance in Krillin's actions and even 18 was looking a bit nervous. He let out a frustrated sigh. Everyone was forgetting that this was a spar and that people do get hurt. Had it been anyone other than Malachi, everyone would actually be enjoying this.

Krillin glided towards him first and struck out quickly with a fist, one that Vegeta was sure Malachi would be able to evade, but he took the hook on fully without flinching. In the same second, Malachi jabbed his fingertips onto Krillin's chest and Vegeta felt a brief increase of ki from Malachi. In the next second, Krillin was on the ground crying out in pain, convulsing even. Vegeta wasn't quite sure what happened, but Malachi was still standing though sporting a few trails of blood from his mouth.

"Was the pain too much for you? You can always throw in the towel," Malachi said mockingly.

There was no mercy in the boy's eyes as he watched the other climb slowly to his feet.

"Geez, what _was_ that? That hurt like hell."

"I know," Malachi said smugly, "I tried it on myself first to see if it worked."

"What?" Krillin said back in both surprise and concern.

"It's not a lasting pain, just quick and jarring."

Then Krillin's confused expression broke into a grinning smile, "I've never felt anything like it before—you've gotta' teach me how you do it."

"Well," Malachi began slowly.

"What's it called?" Krillin continued with excitement.

"I didn't think to come up with one," he said now considering the other's question.

"Hey! Get on with the fight already!" Vegeta shouted to the conversing fighters.

"Sorry," Krillin said sheepishly, but instantly moving back into his stance, "You heard the man."

"Loud and clear," Malachi replied, the friendliness no longer in his tone.

The hand-to-hand combat began again, but they were more evenly matched this time. Vegeta couldn't tell if Krillin was simply going more easy on him or if Malachi was actually improving. Well, he _had_ told Krillin to go easy on him, Vegeta thought.

"You think he's going to win?" Bra asked, her voice hopeful.

Vegeta snorted, "The brat knows a few tricks and I told Krillin to go easy on him. Against a seasoned warrior, Malachi's no match."

"Oh, I see," she said.

Vegeta tsked at this though feeling badly for brushing her opinion aside so easily, but she needed to hear the truth.

Malachi was sent plummeting once again and then twice more. Each time he watched Bra flinch. Each time, Malachi looked more and more roughed up. Krillin kept asking whether he wanted to continue or not and Malachi would grow infuriated every time. His hair was quite scruffy looking by now and dirtied from all the hard landings.

Vegeta would notice brief but surprising sparks in energy from Malachi with each kick or punch and at times when he fell to the ground probably to protect himself and reduce damage. It was a phenomenon he only felt with Malachi. It sparked suddenly and then disappeared again over and over. Vegeta was sure Krillin must have noticed it too. Even now, Krillin's clear aura was beginning to show around him from the consequence of fighting so long. It was perfectly natural, but for Malachi there was never a time when his aura showed and there was nothing constant about it.

Somewhere along the line, Malachi had learned to mask his ki even without Vegeta specifically teaching him and the only time he'd get a hint of it was when he felt those brief sparks. Could he really be in so much control even in the midst of battle? Perhaps Malachi still had a lesson to learn in battle tactics. He couldn't put his full focus on the fight if he was constantly controlling every aspect of his ki.

It took a moment for Vegeta to notice that Krillin was looking a bit exhausted and openly breathing hard. Malachi still stood though roughed up, poised and ready for more punishment, his grin suggesting hidden amusement. Could it be that Krillin was simply out of shape and not as young as he used to be? As far as spars went, this was pretty low energy and it wasn't as if Malachi was getting many shots in especially after that excruciating attack from before. Krillin looked pristine compared to Malachi.

"Ready to give up, Krillin? You don't look so hot," Malachi said in mocking tones.

Krillin laughed at this between breaths, "I just haven't…caught my stride yet."

"Then what are you waiting for?" Malachi taunted, "We've been standing here for a minute now waiting for you to catch your breath."

Vegeta wasn't sure if Krillin was slower or if Malachi had picked up the speed. Suddenly Malachi was tearing through the air towards the other and easily knocked the other spiraling through the air with a well-placed kick, hard greaves crashing into Krillin's back with another brief spark of ki.

Krillin caught himself before he fell to the ground though now visibly winded.

"We can stop here if you want," Malachi mocked, "Your choice."

Krillin responded by powering up, "In your dreams!" he shouted finally becoming agitated.

Krillin seemed to have forgotten the memo about going easy as he was soon attacking Malachi with much more force. The brief sparks of energy increased from Malachi. It was in an attempt to protect himself from Krillin's assault, Vegeta realized. Malachi couldn't dodge or deflect anything dished out from Krillin and he was in danger of being pulverized when Krillin himself called it quits.

"Why'd you stop?" Malachi asked.

He was obviously in pain sporting a protective arm over his abdomen. His clothes were beginning to look tattered and blood flowed from all the nicks and scratches.

"I don't want to beat a dead horse, kid."

"What did you call me?" Malachi shouted angrily.

"I meant, this is just a friendly spar and you clearly can't protect yourself anymore."

Malachi growled at this, "I'll be the judge of that," he spat, "Now attack me like you mean it!"

"Hey, buddy, I think you've had enough—"

"Attack me, damn it!"

Krillin simply stood there watching the other in disbelief. Vegeta wondered if he should intervene as it seemed they were in a stalemate. Malachi could not take much more, Vegeta knew, and though Krillin was a bit out of breath surely he had enough strength left to finish the other off.

"Dad, do something!—he's being stupid because he hates losing," Bra said to him pleadingly.

Vegeta was about to intervene when 18 beat him to the punch.

"That's _enough_. The spar's over. You're just a glutton for punishment," 18 said matter-of-factly.  
"Luckily, my husband wasn't a real enemy or he would have finished you off. I know Vegeta's been training you, but I didn't think he was teaching you his bad habits as well."

Vegeta scowled at this, but said nothing as it was the truth.

"Will you stay out of this," Malachi said to the woman with less anger in his tone, "I'm not done yet. Krillin," he said looking at his opponent, "You better not be backing out on me."

"Krillin, honey," 18 said moving to their position with subtle threat behind her tone, "Don't you dare acquiesce him."

Krillin was now looking from 18 to Malachi in full-on indecision in his eyes.

"This fight is between you and me," Malachi stated ignoring 18's icy gaze, "The sideline people need to stay on the sidelines."

18 didn't get to say another word when Malachi finally released his aura. Puny though it was, it was sudden and Vegeta had forgotten until that moment the odd feeling he got at the pit of his stomach when he sensed Malachi's energy. It was as if he'd eaten something that didn't quite settle and it was not a feeling that simply disappeared. Malachi took the element of surprise and got in a barrage of kicks and punches. He dropkicked him in the end, but Krillin was once again able to catch himself. Just like that, Malachi's aura disappeared though there was a look of pure fire in his eyes.

All talk of ending the fight ended abruptly as the spar started again and 18 moving out the way. Krillin retaliated, but somehow it seemed lackluster and Malachi was easily taking the upper hand. Krillin was exhausted, Vegeta realized suddenly, and it was now affecting the fight. Could he really be that out-of-shape? Malachi landed a solid punch into Krillin's guts and finally sent him sailing to the ground. Despite the protective gear and his ki, Malachi still wrung his hand out in pain at that particular punch. Vegeta noticed some blood trickling from his fingerless gloves. Getting hits in on Krillin must have been like attacking a ton of bricks to him unlike the slightly giving surface of a punching bag—he must have misjudged the amount of ki needed to adequately protect his hand. When Malachi didn't curl that hand back into a fist when Krillin climbed back to his feet, Vegeta knew the hand had been rendered useless for the time being.

"Nice one!" Krillin laughed cheerfully, "I actually felt that one."

His cheerfulness seemed to have the opposite effect on Malachi who scowled. "This is not a laughing matter—I put a lot into that last hit."

Malachi was speeding towards him again and attacked with more success surprisingly. It almost seemed as if Krillin was just _taking_ hits.

"This fight is over," Malachi said leaping back from the now bleeding man to give him space.

"Hey, you got in a few lucky shots, but—" Krillin couldn't finish as he fell to his knees in exhaustion.

It was alarming to say the least and Vegeta finally began noticing his weakened ki signature. It was far too weak, in fact, for a spar like this. In the back of Vegeta's mind, he felt as if he was missing something obvious. Vegeta looked to Malachi who wore a smug expression. Beaten and bloodied himself, he stood remarkably confident. Maybe it had something to do with that attack with the fingertips, he reasoned. Maybe it was some side-effect.

"Surely an experienced warrior like you can tell when he simply doesn't have the energy to fight any longer," Malachi taunted.

Krillin frowned at this and then tried to power up, but almost fainted from the effort, "I don't…understand," he said in surprise. Then he was looking at Malachi closely, "Did you do something?"

Malachi's grin widened and then pointed upward. Now everyone was looking towards the sun. Vegeta's brow crinkled in irritation—what did the sun have to do with anything? Then in the next second, it was as if the sun split in two as an equally large and shiny ball of energy became visible and floated downward in a controlled descent. Malachi had been masking its energy the whole time, but now it was unnecessary and Vegeta was almost floored by the sheer intensity. It was almost on par with a Super Saiyan, but perhaps his senses were being skewed by such a dense concentration of energy in one spot.

"See this? It's your energy that I siphoned from you little by little. I took freely from your aura and your body responded naturally be filling in the gaps of energy over and over again until I had this. You can hardly move at this point so you cannot attack me. I, however, have all this energy that would surely annihilate you if I unleashed it on you. Even if you somehow continued through sheer will, I'd evade you just as easily as I've been doing for a while now and take more energy from you until you drop. Now, I would consider that a loss in my book, wouldn't you?"

Krillin stared at him at a loss for a good minute before breaking out in a good-natured smile. "Man, that's _incredible_. I have no idea how you managed to do all that! It's like a spirit bomb, but way more specific. I mean, how were you able to _hide_ it and then have enough concentration to get all the energy while still fighting? Goku could barely move at all doing that move and people were practically _giving_ him the energy. You win—fair and square—that was incredible."

Vegeta realized that Malachi must have been performing this one move since the battle began. He might have been dutifully attacking Krillin, but there was no way he was ever fully focused on the combat as Vegeta hadn't sensed not even one slip up from the forming energy blast from above. Which meant he'd never seen the full extent of his hand-to-hand combat technique. A bit of a bust as that had been the intent of the spar, not winning per sé.

"Good," Malachi said with the first innocent smile he'd seen in a while. "Then you can have this back."

The gigantic ball of energy dispersed and found its way easily back to Krillin who was soon able to stand again. He was practically at a hundred percent having not used much of his energy in the first place. The opposite was true for Malachi. He'd been masking his ki for a while except when he attacked so Vegeta didn't suspect anything when he still couldn't sense it. Malachi's eyes closed as if in pain, a headache perhaps as the one hand he could still use came up to press against his forehead. Just like that, he fell to the ground.

Bra sped over to him in no time flat, sitting down on the ground and pulling him close.

"Ugh…my head…" he moaned.

"Malachi," Bra spoke softly though Vegeta could still hear, "You overdid it, you idiot, but I still love you."

"I as well," he replied, his voice weak and barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry about…"

Bra shushed him, "I know. I haven't exactly been accommodating. I've been horrible, you know. Teasing you, ignoring you, ordering you around, arguing…"

Vegeta felt Malachi's consciousness slipping.

"I kept telling you no, but the answer is yes, Malachi, let's start over again."

Malachi didn't respond of course; he'd lost consciousness and now Vegeta was trudging towards them. He stopped when Bra lifted Malachi up in her arms, her eyes moist once again.

"He'll be fine," Vegeta answered the unasked question, "Must not have paid enough attention to his own energy level."

"I'm sure he knew," Bra said, "I wouldn't put it passed him to have planned for this outcome even knowing this happens. He _really_ hates losing."

Vegeta knew that feeling all too well. The sting of defeat could often be a bitter one. Sooner or later, Malachi would lose and it would likely hurt more than any physical pain.

* * *

AN: What's this? Malachi won? Sort of. I personally like Krillin as a character, but it never seems like Toriyama knew what to do with him. An underrated fighter in my opinion. Some character development next chapter.

 **WineIXI:** One of the reasons I like writing DBZ fics that take place after GT is that it gives me an excuse to characterize Vegeta a little differently. Thank you for reading! Hopefully I can complete this story.


	9. The Mysterious, Musical Malachi

**Malachi was looking down at him with an utter lack of mirth.** There was a darkness that hadn't been there before of the kind he had never seen before and he had flirted with darkness quite often. He thought by now he was an expert in all things evil. He had traversed that road. He had been that person. He had faced his darkest fears, peered into the eyes of Frieza.

The darkness he saw now was not out of desperation, not from grooming, not one that could be explained, or promised the familiar sensation of pain or torture. It was simply something that existed, twisted and undeniable; something insatiable that could not be quenched or talked down. This was not something that had any hope of improving. There was no sense to be made. Because his mind could not comprehend it, he couldn't stop the fear from setting in.

Why was he looking at him like that? Why couldn't he move?

"One day," Malachi said slowly, his eyes like coal, "I'll capture your heart as well."

He felt himself sinking and an overwhelming sense of dread threatening to take over his state of mind. A pain in his gut only seemed to worsen and did not seem to have an end. The pain simply intensified in an infinite manner until he could he could hardly register it as pain at all. Yet he could not move to writhe in pain. He could not wake from the dream; he felt trapped.

He felt something tearing at his chest. Flesh being torn away with steady persistence. Blood began to splatter onto Malachi's clean face and he began to grin with dark amusement. All Vegeta could do was watch helplessly. He heard a squishy sound and it made him feel queasy. It was a bit unnerving to not feel the pain he knew should have accompanied such mutilation. There was too much blood pooling around him, he should have been dead. Instead, he watched Malachi's determined endeavor and then as his motions stopped. His hand gripped the organ he'd been so desperately searching for.

That was when he felt the onslaught of excruciating pain, the pain he thought he was used to, but it seemed he'd grown soft over his many years on Earth. He cried out helplessly. The popping sound of veins being uprooted made him cringe involuntarily. Malachi wore a face of true devious delight as he held the dislodged heart up for all to see.

Vegeta could hardly think straight as his eyes focused on the organ, barely comprehending what had just occurred. The pain only intensified as Malachi easily crushed the heart in his hand. More blood splattered. He couldn't understand why he was still conscious. He saw everything clearly, he felt everything clearly. He watched as Malachi began to devour the fleshy bits left in his palm. He watched the slender dark haired man lick his hand clean. His tongue licked his lips of the crimson liquid left behind.

He bent down, his face becoming far too close to him. His perfect teeth gleamed with uncanny whiteness as he bent down closer still to speak in his ear. "I will destroy you, Vegeta. I will show you what true evil is."

That was when his eyes whipped open. He breathed heavily and he sweated profusely. It took him a moment to feel Bulma's hand on his arm.

"Are you alright?" Bulma asked quietly, "You were moaning in your sleep."

His eyes sought her out as he concentrated on calming himself.

"It's been so long since I had one of those," Vegeta croaked wearily; 'those' referring to night terrors.

"Frieza again?" Bulma asked.

"No…it's something silly."

"You know you can tell me anything," Bulma reminded him, her hand had not left his arm.

"It was about Malachi," Vegeta said singularly. "What do you think of him, truthfully?"

"Well," Bulma said thoughtfully, tilting her head to the side on her pillow, "I think he's a pleasant young man, extremely talented entertainer—"

"Do you think it's a façade? That there might be…something he's hiding?" Vegeta interrupted her string of compliments.

"Aren't we all hiding something?" Bulma said after a moment, "I don't think it's a façade. I think he means everything he says and when he gets that smile—you know the one that really lights up his face, makes the girls swoon"—Vegeta grumbled at this—"he's really happy. Does he try to hide when he's irritated or annoyed?—yes, but I think that comes with the territory. In fact, I think _I_ can learn a thing or two from him with dealing with the public and keeping up a certain appearance."

"So in your opinion, he's perfect, no real faults."

"It sounds like you're fishing for something. No one's perfect. You've been hanging out with him more than me these days. What do _you_ think?"

"I think…I don't know enough about him."

"Then ask him. He respects you a lot and would probably answer if you ask."

"I don't have any real questions. I've researched all there is to know about him."

"Oh? Is that right? Maybe all you need is for him to confirm. Reading it is one thing. Hearing it straight from him is different."

"Perhaps," Vegeta replied decisively.

He was stepping into unknown territories. Following his instincts had always served him well in the past, but in this new world he lived, often it would lead him astray. Bra was in love with Malachi and Bulma, the only person's advice he trusted without question, had no qualms with him. Not to mention the entire human population couldn't get enough of him it seemed. Was he the only one who had misgivings?

Or was he simply afraid?

The very notion gave him pause. No human could ever make him feel that way. Yet his thoughts returned to the blades of grass, how they had disintegrated with a mere thought. A couple days ago he had performed a technique that had required Goku receive training from another realm to learn and Malachi's skill of performance trumped Goku's by miles. The kind of control Malachi effortlessly had over his own energy was nothing short of remarkable. Had he been born a Saiyan, he would have been quite formidable in his own right.

Vegeta hadn't forgotten about that flash of uncouth anger. He hid it well, but Vegeta knew it was there simmering just below the surface. It wasn't that it was there that bothered Vegeta, it was whether Malachi had the strength of character to maintain control. Maybe he would find that answer by doing as Bulma suggested.

He rested easy for the remainder of the night knowing that he had a plan to quell the last of his misgivings.

* * *

 **Music permeated through the house.** A unique group of voices weaved together to create a beautiful tapestry of musical synchronicity. Then one masculine voice began the verse as the other voices continued to support and fill out the song. Vegeta was momentarily transfixed. What sounds were bombarding his ears? —it was inexplicable and placed him into a pleasant mood. Were these human voices which could sound almost seraph-like?

He finally continued his approach to Malachi's ki signature somewhere within the house. He traversed downstairs and found the youth in the central room doing odd, unnatural stretching exercises. Arms and legs should not have been able to stretch that far, but Malachi seemed to be able to do this with marked ease. Vegeta waited until the other was in a more relaxed position—cross-legged—before making himself known.

"Malachi," Vegeta said gruffly to get the man's attention.

He was glad he'd waited as Malachi nearly jumped out of his skin, his relaxed expression suddenly became that of open fear for a split second before leaning downward to hold his racing heart practically leaping out of his chest.

"Shit, man, my heart got stuck in my throat for a second there. What the hell is wrong with knocking?—or using the damn phone," Malachi said in embarrassed frustration. He soon used a nearby remote to turn down the volume of the music.

"I doubt you'd hear that with all the loud music," Vegeta answered with a grin. "Surely by now you've learned to sense ki; you must stay alert."

Malachi was still holding his chest though his breath had returned to normal, "My concentration was elsewhere. I do tend to put too much focus on one thing and miss events happening around me. A bad habit perhaps, but it helps more than hinders."

"I see. And what the hell kind of exercise is this? Certainly nothing I've taught," Vegeta questioned when he now stood in front of Malachi's sitting form.

"Oh if only my world revolved around you—then I'd only do your exercises. It's called yoga. I've been gaining muscle lately, losing flexibility. I need to maintain that in order to perform in the same way. I'm sure my fans would notice immediately if anything changed."

Vegeta grunted at this. "And how goes your _other_ training?"

"Well," Malachi looked at the other guiltily, "I've been slacking."

Vegeta's eyebrows creased in irritation.

"I think I've achieved what I wanted from your regimen, I simply need to maintain not increase which does not require that I kill myself each day." Then his eyes turned away from him. "Besides, Bra doesn't like me training like that. It came to my attention that she really detests it."

"So you've given up?" Vegeta growled.

"I have other obligations: Bra, my music," Malachi bit back, "I'd rather fight a battle I'm used to winning. I might have technically 'won' that spar against Krillin, but we both know he was going easy and that he could've ended me effortlessly with a good punch. I was no match and it would probably take years of dedicated training to ever match his strength.

"Not every battle is won by strength. Being able to take advantage of the situation is not something that can be taught. Sometimes it's the difference between life and death."

"It was just a spar. Look, I appreciate what you've done for me. I imagine not many humans have trained under you, but anything further wouldn't be justified by the reason we started in the first place."

"And how exactly do you plan to best me if you end it now."

Vegeta rightly assumed that this was something the other had passionately wanted to do as Malachi looked away thoughtfully finally showing some hint of hesitation. Lofty goals perhaps, but it struck a chord with him.

He sighed and then turned back to him, a look of defeat in his eyes. "I've already determined that it's quite impossible for me. Surely, you know that too."

It was that look in his eyes which was really beginning to tick him off. That was not the look of a guy that could give him nightmares. Had his brain only been playing tricks on him? Was he seeing something that simply wasn't there? —or could this all be chalked up to his uneasiness about Bra mating with another. Perhaps he was looking too hard for something to be wrong with him and there actually wasn't anything to find; he was just some normal human guy.

Malachi was no longer looking at him. "I suppose I should have informed you sooner, but everything's been happening so quickly. As soon as I woke up from that 'blackout'—whatever that was—"

Vegeta interrupted him, "You used too much of your energy and there wasn't enough left to remain conscious."

"I had no idea that was possible. I just imagined that I would be _tired_ like before not unconscious." Vegeta could see the wheels turning in his head. "And if that's possible…then I suppose I could have also…"

"No energy, no life."

Malachi's eyes widened, "I had no idea how close to death I was."

"Bra didn't either. No one except me noticed. Usually, one's body naturally retains enough energy to continue functioning, but somewhere along the line, you bypassed that. When someone says they're out of ki, they don't mean it in a literal sense, just that there isn't enough to keep them fundamentally alive."

"I see," Malachi said slowly.

"But it's nothing you'll need to worry over since that was your first and last spar."

His eyes seemed to sadden at this and Vegeta considered that a win. Malachi had a natural curiosity about things in general and he had barely scratched the surface of ki use. Vegeta realized that the decision he was making today was based almost solely on pleasing Bra. It wasn't something that he could really fault the young man for. In fact, it was admirable.

"As soon as I woke up," Malachi said continuing with his last train of thought, "Bra finally admitted to wanting to get back with me. I don't know what I said to warrant it—all I remember is a crushing headache, but I suppose it all worked out in the end. Soon, I'll be a very busy man."

"Why is that?" Vegeta inquired.

"A lot of preparation goes into touring and I like to be part of the process even though I have guys for that."

"You mentioned that before," Vegeta said thinking back.

"I did, though I didn't think you were paying attention." Malachi paused before saying something further, his eyes finally making its way back to Vegeta, "Not that I don't appreciate your surprised visits, but was there any particular reason you come to visit me aside from the obvious?"

Vegeta paced for a moment wondering how he might broach the topic before deciding on going the direct route. He turned to Malachi again.

"There was something I wanted to know." Keeping a respectable distance from the other, Vegeta decided to sit down as well, cross-legged. He leaned his chin against his open palm hoisted by his arm resting on a knee. With an inquisitive look, he said simply, "Tell me your story—How did you get to this point in life?"

It wasn't Vegeta's habit to ask such questions. He was not so interested in people to have any use for it. To this day, he was not inclined to piece together the detailed account of how the Z-fighters first came together. It was all inconsequential. He knew who the members were and that was enough. He hadn't even bothered learning too much of Bulma's history partially because it had so much to do with Goku. Yet here he was patiently waiting to hear what he suspected would be a long-winded story. He was taking Bulma's advice. It was obvious that he still felt uneasy about Malachi if his dream was any indication. Bra was too deeply involved with him to simply get rid of him—his instinctual response to anything not to his liking—not to mention that he was beginning to get used to Malachi.

He still drew some amusement from scaring off the typical human with a mere glance, but it was nice to know that some could have backbone not because of some perceived physical dominance, but simply because they possessed courage. Vegeta could break the other like a twig yet there was no hint of fear in his posture.

"Hm," Malachi said thoughtfully, "That was out of the clear blue. I'm sure you're aware that there are dozens of accounts of my biography available to the public and not hard to get a hold of."

"I know," Vegeta said dismissively though not telling the other conclusively that he'd read many of them, "But I want to hear it from you."

"Oh, I see," Malachi said leaning back on his arms with a cocky grin, "You want an exclusive. People usually pay for that sort of thing." Vegeta gave him an unamused look. "You have to give me something in return."

"You're making me regret asking anything of you," Vegeta growled.

"I'm taking an advantage of the situation," he said with his grin remaining. That he used the same phrasing as him was not lost on Vegeta. "If I tell you about myself, I want you to do the same for me."

"No deal," Vegeta said immediately.

Bulma had to work much harder for such information, he certainly wouldn't be giving away such information to Malachi no matter how much his daughter happened to like him.

"Oh, come, is it that much of a secret? I don't need all the details. Just…an overview will do. Surely that isn't too much to ask."

He'd just given him a way out though Vegeta kept his expression neutral. "Fine—an overview and nothing more."

Malachi didn't seem to suspect anything; he simply accepted his response at face value.

"Alright then," he said with a brief nod. His grin had disappeared from his face as he began to recall his past:

"I was born at some point by some unknown male and female. Later, I was left on the doorstep of a church close to Christmas—that's December 25th if you didn't know. I assume I was wrapped in blankets of some kind or else I was simply lucky to have been found soon enough before freezing to death. Either way, I was taken in and eventually transferred to a nearby facility that at least had minimal capabilities of taking care of orphans. It was a makeshift orphanage though in that area and with the rate of abandoned children, they needed far more funding than what they had. It was low-income and the government could not afford adequate funding—so I was told many times. I was given a biblical name; a birth certificate was drawn up with an estimated birthdate and unknown parentage."

The biographies that Vegeta had read did not start so early. It mentioned he was an orphan and then immediately went into his music career apparently mentored by someone who'd seen his musical talent perchance.

"I remember the hunger more than anything else. I was perpetually hungry. We were afforded one meal a day and one could hardly call that a full course. There was always crying children and babies and not enough adults around. The building had maybe two rooms and I often felt the four walls closing in on me. So I ran away too many times to count. I was maybe seven years old at the time."

"They told me many times that only the most polite children are adopted. If I learned anything there, it was manners. They were pretty much imprinted upon us. The desperation of trying to get at least some of us adopted was not hidden in the least. I knew, somehow I decided, that this was it, this was the life I had to get used to. No one would adopt me, I was alone. I was never good at making friends and kids kept their distance. More often than not, I was in my own world and liable to do things quite spontaneously. Having resigned myself to my fate, I really could care less how I came off to people."

"Music was my second love—food being the first since there was always so little of it. You know what they say, absence makes the heart grow fonder and music was far more available. I hogged the shitty radio gathering dust somewhere in an abandoned closet. It could only receive one station, one R&B station with bad reception. No one wanted it, but it was certainly a treasure to me. I would sing out loud much to everyone's annoyance on or off key. Sometimes when I thought I was far enough away from people like say in a wooded area, I would scream at the top of my lungs—it was stress relieving. The act of emitting sound from my throat was relieving. I spoke so little that many times it was the _only_ time I said a word."

"Skip forward a few years, I was around ten when I discovered the merits of having money. I would do anything for money. I sought out signs for the words 'free' and 'money'. I did all but beg for it. Talent shows paid the best. It's pretty much glossed over just how many of these things I went to, but it was quite a bit. The best ones critiqued my performances and helped me improve, the worst ones laughed me off the stage. I really had no idea what I was doing—I was just going for the gusto. I was not going because I needed attention or approval. I wanted money and I like that it gave me an excuse to sing out loud on a mic. It was a bit like therapy—still is in some ways. I was still a kid who didn't talk much. I wasn't shy, just in my own world all the time. The weird kid in the corner."

"That alone gave me recognition—my 'oddness'. The more I sang, the more I got better at it. Eventually, someone thought it was good enough to actually listen to and approached me after I won second place at the annual local talent show held at the rec center. 'Rec' meaning recreational," Malachi clarified when he noticed the other raise an eyebrow. "I knew from the beginning that this was a business deal and that he intended to make money off of me. I told him I'd do anything he asked me to do as long as he gave me food and adopted me. His name was Quint and he followed through on his side of the bargain. Meanwhile, he worked me to death.

"If I said I wasn't getting any enjoyment out of all that work, I'd be lying. It was something I could put all my focus on and I could sing all I want along with dancing which came natural to me—I'd been doing that anyway now more skill was being added to it.

"Quint was a brusque man in the beginning, but after some years and since we bore no ill will towards each other, we grew to respect each other. We were mutually necessary for the success we found in music. I was on a music label home to many musical legends yet Quint always made sure I had a fair shot and dibs on the songs that best suited me. In fact, Quint wrote and produced many songs specifically for me. He singlehandedly cultivated my career and I learned by example influenced by him and those before me.

"Now that I had access to good food, I learned all there was to know of it. Cooking just gives me peace of mind. There being food on the shelves and in the refrigerator just puts me at ease and the knowledge that I have the ability to turn it into something gourmet.

"The rest," Malachi said sitting up again, "Is history."

Vegeta had watched him closely the whole time and the other had appeared sincere. He wasn't exactly a pampered youth despite his social standing now. He didn't hail from a well-known family, prince hood was not his birthright—instead, he had made a name for himself. It was a story that matched more with Goku than him at first glance. Malachi hadn't been tortured or gone through a struggle as severe as Vegeta's, but he understood loneliness. He knew what it felt like to be isolated from everyone else. He knew about that dark hole one falls into when one thinks about a bleak future. He knew about hard work and used it to propel himself forward. Vegeta couldn't say that he knew the man through and through at this point. Malachi was a shrewd man, calculative even at times yet he participated wholehearted in a strange thing called music; an adolescent pastime had suddenly become his life.

"Do you have any other interests—besides the obvious?" Vegeta inquired.

"Well, I do like long walks on the beach, romance novels, and getting pampered," Malachi said with a short chuckle.

Vegeta grimaced at this which only made Malachi laugh harder.

"Those things aside," Malachi continued, "I did enjoy that spar with Krillin. Complete left field I know, but it was a culmination of all the things you've been teaching me. I love being tested on things especially when I know I'll succeed. Having an audience was only the icing on the cake. I've been meaning to ask you—were you impressed by my performance?"

He was fishing for a compliment, Vegeta knew. He wore a subtle grin. "I didn't expect you to win. It seems you've been doing your own training."

"You gave me the foundation and I took it from there—it's what I do best. Oh—I made something for you," Malachi said climbing to his feet.

 _Was it food?_ Vegeta began to wonder.

"And it's not food," Malachi continued, "Just wait right there."

Vegeta watched the other leave. He came back in a moment holding a thin square plastic object. After he returned to his spot, he handed it to Vegeta. The Prince did not take it immediately, but after a moment, he did.

"What is it?" Vegeta asked eyeing the odd piece of plastic.

Malachi laughed at this, "It's a CD, recorded music. I put a variety of music on it that you might like. Something tells me you've never delved too deeply into music, let me introduce you. Do me a favor and listen to it. Let me know which tracks you like the most. Or not," Malachi said as he saw the annoyed look on Vegeta's face, "But I put a lot of thought into it."

Vegeta gave the clear plastic case with the shiny disc inside another look. "Is it really that important that I listen to it?"

"You're asking a musician that?" Malachi said with a grin. "To me, a life without music is no life at all. It's food for the soul. It strengthens you in all the ways that physical training doesn't."

Vegeta noticed as his eyes lit up when he spoke of music. It reminded him of Bulma when she started talking about her work. He felt her joy but he could never understand it. She was a genius in her own right and when it really got down to it, she spoke in a langrage that many couldn't follow and he was part of the many. But music, it seemed like it was 'accessible' at least in the way that Malachi was presenting it to him. Maybe he might understand or maybe not. The first step seemed to be staring him in the face.

At the very least, he'd gotten what he came for. Since Malachi hadn't asked for his story, Vegeta thought it was high time he left before Malachi remembered the deal.

"I'll listen to the contents of this CD," Vegeta finally conceded, "It seems I interrupted you from your 'exercise', don't let me keep you," he said turning.

"That's fine," Malachi said nonchalantly to Vegeta's back. "Don't think I forgot my side of the deal," he said almost stopping the other in his track, "But we've talked enough today—maybe some other time when I have more of it to spare. See you later and don't be afraid of that wonderful device called a cellphone."

No sooner had he finished saying this, his cell started to ring and he became occupied with a phone call.

"Hm? That's what I pay you for, Derek. I've given you carte blanche on that so long as it doesn't make me look bad. You know those pariahs are waiting to pounce on me any chance they get…"

Vegeta didn't hear the end of that conversation as he finally stepped out CD in hand. Truth be told, he didn't have anything planned this day so he flew off eventually making it back home.

This time, the place really was empty. Dr. Briefs and his wife was away on yet another vacation, Bra spent less and less time at home as was expected and she wasn't exactly spelling out where she was going or doing anymore. Bulma was visiting the Capsule Corp satellite locations today, an annual event she'd been planning for a while.

Vegeta sat down at the desktop computer which was unofficially his since he was the main one who used it—everyone else had tablets, cellular devices, and laptops they could choose from. This was enough for Vegeta as he opened the CD player door and placed it in the tray. Might as well get this torture over with sooner rather than later.

* * *

AN: Phew! Another chapter done. Hope you're enjoying yourself, my wonderful audience.

 **WineIXI** : Awesome—and I liked writing this one more than the others because of the action which there will be more of in the future (and not too distant either).

 **WildHeart44** : Give Malachi an inch and he takes a mile. You know what, I never thought of it like that, but it was a bit like Super 17 and that other pale white android that Vegeta annihilated (Vegeta was at his finest there. Lol). Yes, 18 is totally a Malachi fan, at least of his music.


	10. Boredom Unabated

**AN** : Okay guys, don't get mad at me. Incoming music opinion. We're still friends then? Alright, read away.

* * *

 **Vegeta wasn't in the best of moods.** After his ears had been assaulted with the many awful sounds from the CD, he was ready to tear them off if only it would stop the ringing. The sounds had ranged from blaring instruments Vegeta supposed where guitars to strange electronic-like tracks that were the most jarring and painful to listen to. Even after having the volume at reasonable levels, there was simply far too much happening on a single track to fully appreciate it.

It wasn't all bad, but most of it was. The tracks in which the human voice took center stage were quite pleasant. When the music behind the voices was simplistic and not overwhelming, Vegeta could at least tolerate it. There were different flavors of voices from gritty to melodic and innocent.

He preferred the soft sounds of a piano to the odd sounds of a stringed instrument although a stringed instrument played in a softer way wasn't entirely bad. Though he preferred to hear the voices over the instrument, when done in a balanced way, both music and voice made for something quite addicting. It was a quality he noticed in Malachi's music and a couple tracks on the CD.

There had been 50 tracks in all and Vegeta knew which ones he liked, disliked, or thought was okay. What was embarrassing was the fact that he _wanted_ to discuss it with Malachi, he looked forward to hearing his response. Vegeta knew that there must be some reason to his insistence of listening to this particular CD—Vegeta was simply interested in knowing why Malachi had gone through the trouble.

Vegeta noted immediately that Malachi was not in his usual place, but that did not deter him as he followed his ki signature. Eventually, he found himself at a large, unmarked building faraway from Malachi's house. His ears could already pick up on sounds coming from the place; music.

As soon as he opened the door, he could hear the music perforating evenly throughout. He stood in a sparsely furnished hall and soon he was following the sounds. The hall wasn't very long and led into what looked like an auditorium. The lights far overhead were bright and there was a large expansive stage in the central part. He saw Malachi straight away upon the stage poised to start singing—he knew since he'd seen far too many videos and he'd adopted similar stances. There were other people about in various get ups.

"Could we start over again?—I wasn't ready. It would be better to start on my signal."

"Malachi, you want the music to start on your signal?" a man's voice that came from a microphone asked.

"Yes," Malachi confirmed, "When I turn around and take mic in hand—right after that. Let's take it from the top."

Soon he had his back to the mic stand and the music went silent. Then he turned around—or more like twirled—and took the mic in hand in one smooth motion just as the music began. Seamless if anything else.

When the music started, Vegeta did not recognize the song. Odd, since Vegeta thought he'd listened to all his songs. It was a slow song and quickly put him into a mellow state of mind.

 _There we are as cold as ice_

 _Asking me to love you_

 _And after be your friend._

 _There you are, I walk alone_

 _Telling me to love you_

 _And after be your friend._

His voice was sugar sweet as usual, but it was quite somber. This sensation was intensified as it was live. Vegeta hadn't realized how different it was hearing him unfiltered by recording. Malachi's voice sounded exactly like all the recordings, but it _felt_ different somehow. It was quite intriguing to hear that voice come from him. The hook that followed was breathy and accompanied with backup singers to fill out the sound. The hook seemed dominated by harmonizing sounds rather than actual words, but it seemed to fit.

Vegeta stayed near the entrance so as not to draw too much attention. Evidently, he was not unnoticeable—though to be fair he wasn't exactly hiding only leaning against the far wall—since Malachi eventually looked up and saw him. For a moment, their eyes locked and it was as if he was singing directly to him. Malachi was so unabashed that it actually embarrassed Vegeta. Part way through the second verse, he had to look away.

 _Here I am so all alone_

 _And I am so sad and lonely_

 _Tell me what will I do_

 _I can't explain, I'm all alone_

 _You used to love me_

 _I feel I am your blue._

The hook started again eventually and Vegeta only looked back towards him when another verse began. By that time, Malachi was looking elsewhere thankfully, but Vegeta noticed the subtle smile on his face that hadn't been there before.

It seemed Vegeta had come near the time in which they would take a break from rehearsal. Malachi sat down on the side of the stage and drummed up some small talk among those who had been watching below. Vegeta assumed that they played some part in the production. He wondered if he should approach the man in front of so many others or simply leave and wait for a better time. After all, he was beginning to feel quite uncomfortable in this environment surrounded by such cheerful people.

After a moment, Malachi excused himself from the friendly crowd and made his way towards Vegeta. Malachi was not dressed in his usual dark attire. Instead he wore a form fitting lightweight jacket that was metallic silver with black leather bands decorating the sleeves. It was zipped down a ways revealing a white T-shirt. His belt was more decorative than necessary as his black leather pants were skintight and was populated with small metal spikes. His pants had some chains draped down from his belt in a loop though not in an excessive manner—not enough to impede movement.

Malachi wore an expression of pure delight when he finally reached him, an expression that received a raised eyebrow from the currently stoic Vegeta.

"What the hell are you wearing?" Vegeta asked without much ado. It was something he asked to himself whenever he donned his ridiculous looking costumes during performances.

"You don't like?" Malachi said with a laugh. "With the bright lights, even those with the worst seats can make me out in the distance. Besides, I can't wear black all the time; people will think I'm in mourning," he explained, "You never cease to catch me off guard with your impromptu visits—what brings you here?"

"Well," Vegeta began glancing away from his alighted eyes, "I listened to your CD."

"By the tone of your voice, it doesn't sound like you enjoyed it much."

"It had its moments," Vegeta replied gruffly.

Then Vegeta disclosed to the other the few tracks he could endure. He would never use the word "enjoyed" to describe them.

"You know, music taste can tell you a lot about a person. I sort of thought you would like heavy metal and everything related so I put a lot of it on the CD. I'm pleasantly surprised, Vegeta, that we have such similar tastes. You may not ever want to tell me of your past, but at least I know who you are."

"Then, I suppose we're even," Vegeta said.

Malachi frowned at this, "Not even close. I told you a story that I've never told anyone in that much detail. Maybe one day you'll trust me enough to do the same."

"Hmph," was Vegeta's only reply to something so outrageous. "I'll leave you to your rehearsal," he said after a moment and then turned away.

He was sensing that he'd drawn too much attention from the others and he did not feel like dealing with that crowd.

"See you later then," Malachi said with a smile in his tone.

In reality, Vegeta had wanted to stay if only to watch. Seeing something live was far more exhilarating than watching a video. Perhaps he could understand all those times Bra had asked to go to those concerts.

Wait a minute, Vegeta thought suddenly to himself, had Malachi been among the many concerts she'd gone to in the past? Bulma would have used her clout to get the best tickets for Bra, of course. There was always talk about VIP and meeting the artist. Maybe that was how they first met. He was only making assumptions—there was no way to be sure and there was no way he going to ask. He didn't want to give Malachi any more fuel than he already had.

Vegeta realized something as he took off into the skies at a leisurely pace. Now that Malachi was focusing on his music, Vegeta no long had anyone to train and thus nothing to stave off the daily onset of utter boredom. Of course, he'd take boredom over impending doom any day.

It was so easy for everyone to settle down, to actually enjoy the long peaceful years. Vegeta had already done a good amount of activities that he would never had agreed to doing before. He'd done these things without need of convincing on Bulma's part.

Bowling hadn't been that bad, though extended time at the odd sport would become terribly dull. He understood the concept and pretty much found no challenge in it other than controlling his strength enough to _not_ destroy the pins and surrounding area with a surprisingly durable ball.

Tennis hadn't been to his liking at all. It was again not a challenge unless he played against someone with competent speed and agility. He again understood the concept and found keeping a ball in volley was…sleep inducing. It was far more entertaining to watch other humans play than take part in.

He'd gone ice skating and realized that he had little balance without his tail. It had been quite embarrassing in front of so many people and Bulma to slip and fall on a constant basis. He'd told Bulma in the heat of things that he would never again attempt ice skating. In reality, in the early morning, he would go when the facility was open, but no one was there. Secretly, he was glad to find something he was not immediately good at. To this day, his prowess at ice skating was a work in progress.

Chess was entertaining though it required little to no physical activity. He found playing with the actual chess pieces was more engaging than a computer screen, but he couldn't find any good players offhand and his family was pretty much tired of losing to him; he was equally tired of winning so easily.

On the topic of games that didn't require extraneous physical activity, he'd tried his hand at numerous card games and found that time did pass quickly when he really got into it. Most games were a combination of luck and skill which made each game unique from the other—though he hated losing with a passion. Sometimes it was better to avoid the whole thing. For him, it was quite difficult to _not_ be a sore loser.

Jigsaw puzzles were a guilty pleasure especially 500 pieces and up. It essentially had the same effect as reading a good book or playing chess. So long as his mind was completely engaged, time was no longer a nuisance.

He'd gone on a cruise before and found it to be quite relaxing, well mostly so long as he wasn't bothered by others and he usually was without Bulma around. Mostly, it would be interested women. They weren't bad looking—just, after Bulma every other woman seemed lackluster in comparison.

He stopped in midflight when his thoughts stumbled upon a good idea; The World Martial Arts Tournament. Then he continued his flight when he realized that there wouldn't be any real challenges there. Goku was gone for good it seemed, even Piccolo. Trunks was pretty much out of shape as far as fighting went. Goten was a joke. He sighed inwardly. He'd half believed that Malachi would somehow make good on his intentions of taking him. He was human true, but it had been a long time since anyone had had the gall to challenge him. As chances went, now it was abysmally low that he would even stand a snowball's chance in hell. Vegeta let out a frustrated groan at the utter waste of time he'd spent training the human.

A book would be nice, he decided in the end. Something to distract him from his annoyingly peaceful life.

* * *

He'd almost forgotten to eat when he finally pulled his nose from the text. Somehow the scent of food hadn't pulled him out of the story. To be quite frank, it was the fact that he had to use the restroom that got his attention.

After a while he was traversing towards the kitchen, but paused when he heard voices in the living room. He didn't exactly have to look in to see that it was, in fact, Malachi and Bra, but he did anyway out of curiosity. Their relaxed energy told him that they weren't doing anything… "explicit". It was quite telling that they could even share the same room without exploding on each other. Bra was simply not a "relaxed" person and it was a bit odd to sense something like that from the often high-strung girl.

They were too engrossed with each other to ever notice him standing there for that brief moment. Bra was sitting up on the couch leaning a bit against the armrest. Her other hand was running its way rhythmically through Malachi's dark hair. He laid across her lap, his torso down taking up the rest of the couch. He laid on his back so as to be able to peer up at Bra who seemed in rare moods. They spoke in low tones about the goings-on of the day, at least that was what Vegeta got from the brief snippet he heard.

Vegeta moved on to the kitchen to nab whatever quick meal he could make from the refrigerator. Several bologna sandwiches later, he returned to his sanctuary upstairs. He was able to finish his current book a couple hours later.

By then, the two downstairs were asleep. When Vegeta climbed into bed, he noted that Bulma was nowhere to be seen though not in any grave danger. Her energy felt languid and he wondered for the umpteenth time if it wouldn't be too bad to interrupt her obvious focus on something big.

* * *

"I'm not sure if I can believe what I'm seeing or if this is just another weird dream," Bulma said standing in the doorway to the master bedroom looking in at a very relaxed Vegeta.

Vegeta took out an earphone so that he could hear her better. No, he told himself he would not become embarrassed if anyone who knew him saw him listening to an mp3 player. It was perfectly normal—everyone did it. Bra had one. He knew Bulma did as well since she would brandish it while working the treadmill. Also, at some point it was simply becoming annoying sneaking around just to listen to some music. Malachi had suggested quite a few music selections and he had yet to get through all of it. So far, it was quite pleasant to listen to.

"My sentiments exactly. I haven't seen you in days," Vegeta said sitting up in bed ignoring Bulma's initial surprise.

"Me missing for a few days should not come as a surprise. I've been working on—"

"You've been working on something important—the more you try to explain what that something is, the less it makes sense."

Bulma crossed her arms, "Fine, I won't bother anymore. Don't think I don't know you're trying to change to subject. You're _listening_ to music willingly? The last time that happened was when I was blasting Justin Bieber in the GR."

"Yes, and I remember that day fondly," Vegeta said with a bit of snark. "You're the one who's always harping on me to try new things. Well, now you can shut-up about it."

Bulma stepped further into the room and then proceeded to climbing on the bed with a grin on her face.

"What are you doing here anyway? Aren't you supposed to be working on your very important thing?" Vegeta asked eyeing the slinking Bulma moving towards him.

"So…what are you listening to?" she finally asked.

He snatched the small device out of her reach before she grabbed it though she had gotten surprisingly close.

"Not until you tell me why you're here. It's the middle of the week, middle of the day—did something happen?"

Bulma frowned a little at him, "I'm taking a brief respite. We've reached an impasse. Besides, I've missed you a lot."

"Ah, I see. So you've come crawling back to me out of desperation," he said with an amused grin.

"Bastard," Bulma retorted though there was no real bite behind her comment.

Vegeta passed her one of his earphones and Bulma slid in comfortable beside him and placed it in her ear. Her face scrunched up immediately upon hearing it.

"R&B?" Bulma asked a bit surprised. "I thought you'd be into metal and rock—"

"Why does everyone keep saying that?" Vegeta asked getting annoyed.

"Because, how do I explain this?—different types of music attract a specific kind of crowd."

"Oh?" Vegeta said still with a questioning look.

"Nevermind," Bulma said shaking her head, "It's hard to explain." She handed him the earphone again. "Definitely not something I would listen to on my way to work."

"Pity," he said dismissively as he paused the music and discarded the earphones. "As it does put me in the mood."

Bulma was beneath him now as he turned over to her, his arms propping him up.

"Since when did you need music for something like that?"

Vegeta only grinned at her as he lowered himself and kissed her deeply.

* * *

 **AN:** What? You're saying there's not really a plot? You need more drama? I'll get to that soon enough. Also, next chapter will actually be quite long. I'm almost finished with it and it's already 9,000 words. Get ready.

 **WildHeart44** : Yeah, let's hope Vegeta's intuition is terribly wrong this time. Vegeta opening up to Malachi? Maybe, maybe not. Unless he feels it's actually necessary. Important to note though—opinions are subject to change.


	11. A Momentous Occasion

**The fact that Malachi had been touring around the world was apparently a momentous occasion.** Vegeta couldn't watch television or videos on the internet without hearing about it. In fact, he was so tired about hearing about his exploits that he was glad when the whole thing was over. Right on time for talk of the next World Martial Arts Tournament. Prospective candidates looked laughable and the returning champion was some muscle-bound unknown.

Vegeta was sitting down watching a special that explored the prospects of each candidate that had signed up thus far for this year, but mostly they focused on the Champion from the last tournament. He was a heavily muscled bald guy not unlike Nappa. He seemed excessively ruthless. They showed footage of his infamous deeds as he pounded opponents into a bloody pulp despite referees trying to interject. The man lacked decorum. This was a tournament to be watched by millions of spectators—leave the beat downs to outside the ring on one's own personal time. His name was Crane, a name that apparently drew fear. Since he'd been in the tournament, ratings had soared. Vegeta grinned at this. Seemed Saiyans weren't the only race who was entertained by bloodshed and excessive violence. He wondered what Kakarot would say about his precious tournament brought down to what seemed like street brawls.

That was when his cell started ringing. The caller ID read Malachi. He sighed and then answered. It wasn't as if he called often. In fact, this was the second time. Maybe it was some sort of emergency.

"Yeah?" Vegeta said at once.

"I hope I didn't call at a bad time—you sound a bit annoyed."

"What do you want?" Vegeta growled, now that he was officially annoyed.

"I guess it's straight to the point with you, huh?"

"I'm about to hang up this phone in 3, 2—"

"I want to spar against someone again," Malachi said pointblank.

"You're not ready for one."

"I told you I wasn't training anymore, but,"—his voice lowered as if he was telling some juicy secret—"that was a boldfaced lie. I'm sure you'd be proud of the progress I've made thus far. And there are some techniques I want to try out on people other than myself—"

"Does Bra know about this?" he interrupted.

"Well," Malachi said after a pause.

"Just as I thought."

Vegeta had learned two things in his brief moments on the phone: One, Malachi was a really good liar. Vegeta supposed this shouldn't be a surprise considering his career and what it entailed; Vegeta hadn't suspected a thing. He'd already labelled Malachi a lost cause. Two, Malachi must be a good deal more powerful now, at least, if he really had been training for months. In fact, Vegeta was curious to see his progress.

"I know you're upset—"

"I'm not," Vegeta said with little pretense.

"Good."

"But you have to tell Bra or else I will have nothing to do with this."

"I was already planning on doing that," Malachi said with an exasperated sigh.

"And how in the world have you been able to keep this from her so long or even while you were on tour?"

"People already think I'm crazy—I use that to my advantage. I don't exactly have a consistent training schedule, but I do enough when I can."

Bra did spend a great deal of time with Malachi these days. She was practically living at the man's house. Bra's own room at home was gathering dust. Today, however, Vegeta did not sense her near Malachi. Perhaps that was why he was receiving this rather spontaneous call.

"Tell Bra about all this," Vegeta stated matter-of-factly, "Then I want to see if your training bore any fruit. And if I feel you've improved sufficiently, I want you to enter the World Martial Arts Tournament."

"What?" Malachi said immediately.

"You heard me," Vegeta replied as if he had thought long and hard on this when in reality it was a split-second decision.

"That cutthroat competition? You know people have _died_ out there, right? It's nothing like it used to be. The rules have been laxed—And what would it look like for me, the highly prominent entertainer who's known for twirling around on stage now competing in roughneck brawls. That would just be weird."

"Didn't you say that people already think you're crazy?"

"Yes, but not that kind of crazy. No one just enters the tournament for fun especially not people in my profession—so left field."

Vegeta wanted to see Malachi wipe the floor with these idiots at the tournament. Sure, he could do it himself, but it would be far too easy and a complete waste of his time not to mention no one would care in the slightest. Call it pride, but Vegeta wanted to know if the person he had had a hand in training could best the other so-called human warriors.

"I wasn't aware that you followed others. I thought you were the one who set trends for everyone else to imitate. You wanted to fight? These will be other humans that will give you a proper challenge."

"This sounds like a rash decision, but to be honest I would love to enter just to see how far I could go. You'll jump in and save me if I'm in mortal danger, right?"

"Depends what mood I'm in."

"Better than nothing, I suppose."

"I'll be over soon. Be ready."

Vegeta ended the call soon after. He was in rare moods. One might even venture to say that he was excited. He took off for Malachi's residence quickly and found the other waiting outside in the back of his house. His backyard was quite spacious and well-kept.

"So you've learned to sense people," Vegeta said standing erect and with arms crossed.

"Ha, very funny," he said back with an unamused look.

"I want you to hit me with all your strength."

"Why? So, I can completely obliterate my hand?"

"You've been training, haven't you? That shouldn't be the case anymore. Don't hold back."

Malachi had his gloves on; he raised his dominant right hand towards himself and clenched it into a tight fist. He stepped a little closer to Vegeta, readied his body, pulled his hand back and went for the gusto. There was almost a dizzying spike in energy precisely upon impact. Vegeta hadn't expected to be effected at all by a measly punch from a human and his assumptions hadn't been far from wrong. He did feel something, but it was so minute that it was negligible.

"Well?" Malachi asked when Vegeta didn't respond immediately.

"That tickled," he said with a small grin, "I think you're more than ready to enter."

"You're really serious about this, aren't you?"

"Very," Vegeta clarified.

"And how come you don't want to enter?"

"Did you notice how little your punch did to me—the entire tournament would be child's play."

"I see. I suppose I'll have to wait longer to face you."

"Kid, do you really intend to best me?" Vegeta asked. He wanted to hear those words again. He wanted to be challenged even if that challenge came from a weakling.

"I do. If I can defeat you, then I can defeat anyone."

"After that pitiful display, you really believe you have a chance?"

"Come, surely you don't think I'll overcome you with strength. That would be a fool's errand."

"Now you're speaking in riddles. There are only so many tricks you can pull—eventually you'll have to actually attack me."

"Don't worry, Vegeta, I'm still working out the details. Maybe if I survive this tournament, I will have perfected a few things."

"Hmph," Vegeta grunted, "The more questions I ask the more evasive you become. I will simply have to see at the tournament. Bra will be here in a few moments," he said looking up, "I'll be back when things cool down."

"What?" Malachi said panicking. "Wait, she is—" he paused when he heard a car glide into the driveway.

Vegeta took this time to leave. He wanted nothing to do with the ensuing argument. He glided easily through the air. It had been a long time since he'd actually anticipated something. Vegeta was quite ready to see how Malachi would match up.

* * *

 **The whole world was in an uproar.** Malachi's name was everywhere. If Vegeta heard one more clip from that press conference in which Malachi was actually present and answered questions, he was going to destroy the television.

Vegeta had been training again as well. He wouldn't be competing, but something about there being a tournament got his blood pumping. He lamented his lack of a sparring partner or anyone close to giving him a good old fashioned fight and then he trained even harder as he hated the feeling of hopelessness that could lead to far drearier moods.

He wouldn't say that he missed Goku; he simply refused.

On days when training wasn't enough to distract him, he would wear Bulma out—and she would know something is wrong and Vegeta would refuse to speak on it. It was a cycle that began soon after Goku's departure and it occurred sporadically with no rhyme or reason. Something would remind him or his own wandering thoughts might betray him if he was idle for too long.

That night, Bulma had wanted to talk after their very long lovemaking session and Vegeta had feigned sleep—an art he was quite good at—until she let the matter rest.

Vegeta was waiting for Bra to storm into the house at some point demanding to know why he'd manipulated Malachi into entering, but it never happened even after he was sure Bra knew—it was all over the news. Maybe Malachi had worded his explanation to make it sound as if Vegeta had nothing to do with it to spare an argument between father and daughter—Vegeta wouldn't put it passed him. Though less likely, maybe she had simply accepted it and even supported him.

There were still a few weeks left before the actual tournament leaving time for more people to sign up. Since Malachi's participation had been made public probably as a way to garner ratings for the floundering interest in the tournament, thousands of people had signed up as well. Diehard fans for the event complained that it was being turned into a joke and they blamed Malachi. Just as there was an outpour of excitement, there was an outpour of hate.

There was only so much training Vegeta could do to distract himself from both the growing anticipation of the tournament and sudden lapses of despondency. He wore himself out quickly. He was not so young to handle such extreme punishment on his body on a daily basis.

He hadn't even so much as gotten out of bed one day, the pain being so much that he dreaded moving. Bulma hadn't said a word about it which was strange. Maybe she actually could read his mind and she didn't feel like rehashing what she already knew. Instead, she simply filled a cold glass of water and took a bottle of powerful painkillers and placed it within arm's reach on the nightstand.

He currently laid motionlessly on his stomach on the bed and caught a glimpse of Bulma's delicate hands in his peripherals.

"It's getting late," Vegeta rumbled seeing this. It was late morning.

"The whole city's been in an uproar since Malachi signed up. People are in a celebratory spirit, no one wants to work. It's pretty much a week-long holiday around here and my offices were not immune."

Vegeta could tell she was standing near the bed on his side though he couldn't see her from his position.

"I had no idea," he said singularly.

Bulma laughed at this and then sat down beside him on the edge of the bed. "There you go again underestimating his popularity. Sometimes I think he's the beating heart of all of us and he's just a kid, a kid who loves entertaining everyone."

Vegeta felt her hands on his back. Her icy fingers soon warmed up on his hot skin. His internal temperature would increase when his body was healing and he suspected that she knew as much by now. He groaned with pleasure as she used the balls of her palm to work into his deltoids. He hoped she wouldn't stop anytime soon.

"It's like massaging a rock," Vegeta heard Bulma murmur. "I don't know what you said to him to make him agree," she said referring to Malachi.

"Are you suggesting that I manipulated him?"

"Yes," Bulma responded quickly, "This isn't something he'd think to do on his own."

She continued with his tight shoulder muscles and Vegeta was too much in bliss to properly become angry.

"Maybe I did," Vegeta soon confessed. "He could have said no. He's told me no before on other things so he's not intimidated by me. He doesn't jump every time I tell him something."

"Sounds as if you like him."

"For a human, he's not unpleasant to be around. He's in no danger. I checked—he's strong enough to protect himself well from other humans."

"I see. You want to see if he can win, if the human you trained is better than the others."

Vegeta sighed with pleasure as she put more force behind her strokes. "Yes, exactly," his voice moaned.

"Do you miss him?" Bulma asked.

"Huh?" Vegeta replied lazily, his mind not interpreting the change in topic.

"Do you miss Goku?"

She pushed harder and a pleasant feeling rippled through his body. He sighed again. Vegeta knew suddenly what she was doing, but he was too tired to protest, or deny her any longer.

"I miss having good fights. Despite wanting to strangle him to death at times, I miss knowing that a guy like that existed and that he's somewhere nearby whether he's dead or alive." Once he got started, he couldn't stop. "I'm glad that he's gone. He would've hated this, he would've been training, he would've been trying to find some way to stave the boredom incessantly. And I would've been training too to make sure he doesn't become too far above me. It would've been never-ending and we would never enjoy _this_. And maybe I didn't want to do that forever."

She was still massaging the same area and there was more give this time. Vegeta still did not want her to stop.

"I know a lot about fighting. It's part of my earliest memories. And I suppose I enjoy it to a certain extent as a Saiyan, but I don't want to spend every waking minute pursuing it."

Vegeta sighed heavily almost sleepily as Bulma continued vigorously.

"There was always a necessity, wasn't there?" Bulma said when he was quiet for a while, "It was necessary when you were being groomed to secede your father."

"Yes, among other things."

"Then when you were forced under Frieza's rule and onward, it was a matter of survival."

"Ah, yes, wonderful history to be reminded of."

"Sorry, I'm just trying to make a point."

"Go on," Vegeta said sensing her hesitation and wanting to hear her opinion.

"Later it was about getting your freedom, being the master of your own fate," Bulma said leaning closer now. She changed her position as she put her knees over his body, straddling him so that she was in a better position. He moaned helplessly.

"Then after you began to settle down on Earth, it was about proving your worth, proving that you were the most powerful. Now does that sound like you're fighting because you enjoy it?—or was it simply a means to an end?"

"Woman, I am a Saiyan."

"And all Saiyans _must_ obsess over fighting? They must all enjoy battle? Where is it written?"

"Nowhere was it written as far as I can remember. As a Saiyan, however, it was our responsibility to—"

"See? Responsibility. How can one ever truly find what they love if the decision's already been made via tradition. With Goku gone, there's no constant pressure to keep up and you're free to do whatever you please. Don't worry, your secret is safe with me."

Vegeta snorted at this, "One must always be prepared for the worst," he said sleepily, his eyelids were becoming heavy, he realized.

Her hands ceased their movement and he felt her warmth disappear as she climbed off and sat on the edge again.

"Hey, sleepyhead," she said in quiet tones, "There's going to be a little get-together at Malachi's later on today—I invited everyone."

"What for?" Vegeta asked.

"Didn't I tell you everyone's in a celebratory spirit? Finally, no one's schedule is conflicting. It's been ages since we've seen the gang altogether. Since all this is impart due to you, it'd be a shame if you didn't show up."

"I'll come," he said in defeat. "Sounds interesting."

Vegeta was actually curious to see how everyone was faring. Goku had left him in charge. At least it seemed that way whether they accepted it or not and he was doing a poor job keeping tabs. He had no idea where some of these people even lived. He wondered why it was happening at Malachi's place. Had it been Bulma's idea or Malachi's? Either way, Malachi would be meeting what was left of Earth's defenders. He wondered if that would be significant or if Bra was okay with any of it. He supposed he would simply have to see.

He really had no idea how to casually attend a party function, but this time he thought he might put forth some effort, observing what others were doing and imitating.

He finally fell asleep after taking the suggested pills and hoped he wouldn't accidentally sleep the whole day away.

* * *

 **Vegeta came an hour late to the party**. Apparently, Bulma hadn't felt the need to wake him early. It must have been something impromptu since Bulma wasn't being nearly as anal about attendance. He immediately smelled the food there and noticed many partaking of it.

There were many people there already. Krillin was chatting up a storm with Yamcha who had an unfamiliar blonde at his side and Puar floating beside them. 18 was nearby; she never left Krillin's side. Bulma was chatting with Malachi and Bra. The couple seemed in good spirits. Bra leaned on Malachi blissfully; the sort of lovey-dovey thing that Bulma wouldn't dare do with him, but Malachi had no trouble with. There wasn't a bashful bone in his body.

Tien and Chiaotzu hadn't shown up, but Vegeta wasn't surprised. Trunks wasn't there either which was a bit more troubling. Vegeta had not seen much of his son lately. Aside from his position as the President of Capsule Corp, he knew little about what he was doing these days. Chi-Chi was there along with the Ox King, Gohan and Videl, Goten was with a dark hared woman, and Pan who looked like the younger, tomboy version of Chi-Chi.

Vegeta thought he would play it safe and make his way over to Bulma. Malachi was all smiles when he approached, but Bra's reaction was far more subdued.

"Almost thought you wouldn't show," Bra said, "This isn't really your scene."

"And what is, pray tell?" Vegeta said back. "It's been a while since everyone's been together like this."

"And when you say everyone you mean the real people who have been protecting Earth," Malachi said looking around, "I didn't expect to see so many humans."

"All Kakarot's friends," Vegeta replied.

"And yours as well," Bulma reminded him.

Vegeta snorted, "More like acquaintances, they've simply known me longer than anyone else who happens to be alive."

Bulma sighed exasperatedly, "Say what you like, but we're all friends here."

"Something tells me you have all gone through a lot together. I bet it would be quite intriguing to learn about."

"Ask Bra about it," Vegeta told him.

Bra frowned at the other and Malachi laughed good-naturedly likely to salvage Bra's already darkening mood.

"Well, there's plenty of people here I could talk to about that and I'll be here a while," Malachi said.

"Also, Yamcha is dying to meet you even though he's trying to play it off," Bulma said to Malachi with a wink.

"Dad," Bra said drawing his attention again, "I need to speak with you."

"You are speaking with me. What do you want?" Vegeta asked.

Bra sighed wearily in a way that made him suspect that he might have missed something, some social cue that he could care less about. She led him a ways from Bulma and Malachi.

"I decided to support Malachi," she said steadily, "I don't ever want him to feel like he needs to hide things from me. I know Malachi. Once he gets interested in something, he doesn't let it go so easily and you managed to pique his interest. Also," she continued as she crossed her arms, "Were the roles reversed, he wouldn't hesitate in supporting me. He'd encourage and help me do better—I haven't been doing that. So, you win."

"Win?" Vegeta asked not liking her wording. "It was a natural progression. I did not force him to do anything."

"Say what you want, but I will be holding you responsible if something terrible happens to him as a result."

"He can protect himself."

"You better hope so," Bra said ending the conversation there as she proceeded to walk back to Malachi.

Just then, Vegeta noticed the sound of footsteps stop a short distance behind him. "Trouble in paradise?" a woman's voice asked.

He turned to the unfamiliar woman and noticed immediately that she towered over him. Her scarlet hair trailed down her shoulders in waves ending a few inches below. Inquisitive dark green eyes looked at him behind narrow spectacles. She wore flats and an aqua green sundress, one that consisted of an off-shoulder neckline and rather dramatic bell sleeves. It wasn't a long dress and stopped a few inches above her knees. Though it wasn't an outfit that drew attention to it, her bust was quite substantial. He'd never seen her before.

"You must be Trunks' father—he favors you."

Vegeta looked at the other with a raised eyebrow. "I am," he replied with little pretense. "But who are you?" he asked gruffly.

She smiled crookedly at him—it suited her face and seemed to come natural to her. "I'm Terri, Trunks' girlfriend. Sorry we haven't met before now, but he likes to put me on the backburner."

"Hmph, he does that everyone," Vegeta said at the mention of Trunks' behavior as of late, "He hasn't deigned it necessary to visit or let me know that he still exists in ages."

"Busy with work as he always says. Would you mind if we sat down somewhere?"

She indicated some couches nearby and Vegeta obliged her.

"Were it not for your wife inviting me, I would have no idea about this gathering," Terri said.

"How long have you known him?" Vegeta asked. He was not surprised that Trunks was dating, well, maybe a little as he seemed uninterested in such pursuits. He was more surprised that he'd not heard anything of such developments.

"For a few years, off and on, I guess. We met in a bookstore where I was doing a book signing."

"Book signing?" Vegeta asked trying to follow her.

"Yeah," she said casually, "I'd just published another title for my current ongoing series. My claim to fame as they say. It was a great way to meet my readership—that's the part that I care about. Not so much the redundant activity of signing my name. I'm not sure if Trunks was also a fan at the time, but that was where I met him."

"You're a writer then," Vegeta stated with vague interest. "What was your last name?" He remembered a good number of books in Malachi's collection with the name Terri printed on its cover. Could she be the same person?

"Terri Mclaughlin," she replied confidently.

"Sounds familiar," Vegeta admitted to the other.

"Oh?" she said in questioning tones clearly delighted.

It was a book that he had stumbled across purely by chance, but he had finished it in a day. He disclosed such things to her and he managed to bring quite an endearing smile to her face. At the very least, he'd managed to say the right thing and not scare her off. Vegeta already suspected the real reason behind Trunks essentially avoiding any chance of him meeting his girlfriend, but the deed had been done. Besides, he'd often wondered what kind of person had enough patience and imagination to write out a complete narrative. Apparently, what he had read had been one of her earlier works that had not been part of a series. Few had read it and it was no longer in print. Still, it was a story that had kept his interest for the entire time and he informed the other this fact.

Their conversation went on for much longer than either of them had thought, but Vegeta found it wasn't an altogether impossible task especially with one who was not annoying. During that time, she'd also gotten her hands on a glass of martini by a passing server holding a tray filled with various alcoholic beverages. Vegeta might have partaken in some as well, but he decided not to take the risk at this point, when things were going so well.

"Currently, though, I'm in somewhat of a writer's block. Sometimes I can stare at a blank page and have nothing more to write despite knowing what I want to happen next. Wording is everything. Actually, spending some time away from work, talking to other people is pretty—" she paused when her cell began to ring. Vegeta watched the other peer down at the Caller ID. He could already see the name displayed across the screen. She looked up with an amused expression. "It's Trunks—speak of the devil."

She answered cordially. Vegeta could hear what was being said on the other side of the conversation since she had the volume up quite loud—perhaps not loud enough for a normal person to hear, but Vegeta could discern Trunks' voice perfectly.

"Where are you?" Trunks asked without much pretense.

"Well, good evening to you too—I'm doing fine if you wanted to know," she replied in a tone laced with sarcasm.

"Sorry," he said back after a momentary pause. "That was rude of me, but you weren't in your usual place."

"Didn't your mom tell you about the get-together she was having? Your sister's new boyfriend would be there…"

"Oh, that? Well, I wasn't exactly planning on going—wait, is that where you are?"

"Yeah—I'm having a blast finally meeting your family."

"What?" he said sharply.

"And why are you so worried? I thought you could magically sense where I was at all times."

"It doesn't work quite like that. I might know where you are, but it's not like I can see your surroundings—"

"What is it?" Terri asked when he paused abruptly.

"I'll be there in a few."

"You're really coming?" she asked in surprise, "I thought you said you'd be busy today."

"It's fine," he said shortly, "I'll be there soon."

Terri hung up when she realized the other had already done so. Vegeta found himself grinning at Trunks' apparent anxiousness. He'd discreetly made his ki signature quite obvious to his son. It seemed he'd been right about the reason behind Trunks' avoidance. Still, it would be nice to see him again after so long—something he did not want to say aloud.

"You have a mischievous grin on your face—did I miss something?" Terri asked with a raised eyebrow.

"It's nothing," Vegeta said standing up.

"Well, he'll be here soon. Maybe we can finally clear the air."

"Right," Vegeta said unconvinced with her optimism.

He noted others had arrived as well. Bulma's parents had arrived along with Master Roshi and the annoying talking pig known as Oolong. Yajirobe and Hercules had made an appearance as well. But there was one young man who had caught his attention: Majuub. He was a fully-grown adult by now and almost unrecognizable without his trademark mohawk. His hair had grown out longer though tapered. Longer strands of his hair still resided at the top of his head and fell softly to one side. He appeared quite muscular indicating that he must have kept up with his training though Vegeta could not imagine with who. It gave him an idea, however. Perhaps this get-together would be far more rewarding than he'd thought in the first place.

Vegeta sensed Trunks on his way and when he finally entered the premises. He'd stayed in Terri's vicinity as she followed him to Majuub who looked not to be used to such functions. Majuub looked at him with a raised eyebrow when he noticed Vegeta approaching his solitary form.

"Didn't expect to see you here," Vegeta said to the other.

"I didn't either," he said slowly, "But Bulma dropped by personally so I couldn't say no. You're…Vegeta, right?" he asked.

"The one and only," Vegeta replied gruffly. "This is Terri," he said indicating the red head.

Hi," she said with a half-smile, "Nice to meet you."

His face brightened a little after she spoke, her easy smile doing wonders for the strange but tense air between the two.

"I see you've kept up with your training," Vegeta said.

"Well, mostly," he said a little hesitantly. "It's hard to find a decent sparring partner. It's been peaceful for a long time, you know. I guess with Goku no longer around, no one's bothered to trouble Earth."

As he mentioned Goku's name, it seemed to dampen his mood. His eyes became downcast.

"So far," Vegeta said, "Maybe his absence is a good thing."

Majuub's fists clenched at this and then he was looking at him directly with furrowed eyebrows. "How could you even begin say that?"

"You said it yourself," Vegeta reminded him unperturbed by his outburst. "Or do you like trouble?"

Majuub opened his mouth to say something further, but Terri spoke first.

"Who's this Goku?" she asked with genuine interest.

Majuub answered her first. "He taught me a great deal about myself—the best martial arts teacher I've ever had. And he's protected Earth from destruction more times than I even know. That time with Omega Shenron—without him, we wouldn't be standing here talking so casually."

Vegeta grumbled at this which drew a frown from Majuub.

"That sounds incredible," Terri said in all sincerity. "I wasn't even aware that Earth was ever in such peril."

"Well, it's not something we like to let the general public in on—there'd be so much widespread panic," Majuub explained.

"But there _was_ that time with Cell…" Terri said thoughtfully.

Vegeta grumbled again which drew another frown from Majuub.

"Do you have something else to say about Goku?" Majuub finally said to Vegeta.

"I would hate to ruffle the feathers of 'Goku's fanclub'," Vegeta replied in belittling tones. "I want to see how well you've been keeping up your fighting skills," he said already done talking about the long absent Saiyan.

"Here?" Majuub asked with surprise.

"No, idiot, at a better time."

"What did you call me?"

"You know where I live, right?" Vegeta said ignoring his last comment. "Or if you don't, you can easily ask Dende. Whenever you're ready, I'll give you a proper spar."

Majuub was speechless for a few moments and then found his voice again. "It would be my honor."

"We'll see how well Kakarot's training holds against me."

Vegeta could sense when Trunks entered the room. He was keenly aware when he made his way over to their positon in that moment. Terri was visibly surprised but quite happy with Trunks' appearance. He wore a Capsule Corp jacket unsurprisingly, but it was of a new design. The color scheme was a dark yellow and black—mostly a yellow material with black accents. Under his jacket was a black T-shirt and dark slacks with his characteristic boots. He wore his hair as he always did in a tapered bowl-cut.

"Asking people to spar with you—that sounds about right," Trunks said to Vegeta upon his arrival.

"Someone has to make sure we're still prepared," Vegeta said with a 'hmph'. "Nice of you to grace us with your appearance." Vegeta said with crossed arms.

"You may not believe it, but I've been kept busy with my position in the corporation. Someone has to make sure that things continue to run smoothly."

"Being the head of such a large entity shouldn't be a one man's show," Vegeta countered.

"Maybe it's difficult to find those who I can trust. You recall I asked for your assistance."

"Yeah, I remember," Vegeta said with a snort. "And my stance remains the same. You should find people who know what the hell they're doing and not someone who lacks formal earthly education and would be completely out of their element."

"It's not rocket science," Trunks argued, "And besides what are you even doing with your time? There hasn't been a threat in over five years. Mom's doing what she does best being a mechanical engineer," He cast his eyes over the people there that day. "Yamcha, he's clearly enjoying his baseball career. Even Chi-Chi has started her own farm."

"Your point?" Vegeta replied evenly.

"My point being that you're wasting your talents doing absolutely nothing and your lack of ambition," he paused when Vegeta's expression hardened at this, "Your lack of ambition is really starting to get on my nerves," he finished. "Is that really how you want to have others see you?"

"Trunks," Terri said surprised at his words.

"Stay out of this, Terri," Trunks said stolidly.

Such biting words would have usually incited his own anger, but they really did sting like nothing else had done before. One of the unfortunate perks of being a father was that there now existed people who he could not ignore or turn a blind eye to. There were those who held his heart in their hands. It was a fact that had always bothered him before—in obvious chink in his otherwise impervious armor that he could not get rid of and he had no intentions of ever doing so.

"I will do as I see fit, boy. One can never let their guard down and I will not leave Earth vulnerable. There are no second chances. Once someone dies, they are dead for good. You may not understand how precarious Earth's situation is now, but I do and it feels as if I'm the only who does."

"I understand perfectly, Father. But you can't live on edge like that for the rest of your life."

"So you understand perfectly, huh?" Vegeta said with a frown. "Then you'll just have to show me your understanding."

"With a spar?" Trunks said, but in a knowing tone.

"It's as if you've known me for your entire life—yes, of course, boy," Vegeta said in a way that let the other know that such conclusions were obvious, "Show me that it's possible to do as you do and still be capable of defending Earth."

"I guess that's the only way you'll listen to me—I shouldn't be surprised," Trunks said shaking his head.

"You two are going to fight each other?" Terri said incredulously.

"Terri—" Trunks began.

"Yes," Vegeta said plainly. "But he's used to such things—or at least he should be."

"I would love to see such a fight," Majuub said finally breaking his silence.

Terri looked from father to son and then sighed. "Just don't hurt each other too badly. I'll be rooting for both of you."

Trunks was looking at her then considering her words. "You seem altogether too calm about all of this."

"You know I'm more than capable of reading between the lines, right? I think I know the reason it's taken you so long to introduce me to your family, but that's okay, I forgive you. These are extraordinary circumstances. And if you were worried your father would hate me, well, I'd say we got along quite well. Now, if you excuse me, I'd like to meet your sister if you don't mind."

Terri walked off before Trunks could respond and his eyes never left her as she walked over to Bra in the distance.

"Intelligent and speaks her mind—I think you've chosen well," Vegeta said noticing his gaze.

This got his attention immediately. "Ugh, like I wanted to hear that from you of all people," he said as his eyes looked to the ceiling in exasperation.

Vegeta didn't care how the other might react; it needed to be said. Speaking of mates, Malachi chose this time to walk up to the trio having spent the past hour with Yamcha and others. He wore an easy smile clearly in a good mood. It was effective at setting Vegeta at ease even if it wasn't outwardly noticeable.

"Ah, the ever allusive brother," Malachi said. "I'm—

"Malachi," Trunks finished, "I know. Not too many people who don't know who you are. I trust you've been treating her well."

"Like a Queen," he answered smoothly, "As she deserves."

"Tell me—who's idea was it for you to enter the tournament? Is it some publicity stunt for popularity's sake?"

"There are easier ways to do that kind of thing," Malachi said with a chuckle. "Your father's been training me—"

"My father's been what?" Trunks cut across loudly. He was looking at Vegeta now. "Explain yourself."

Vegeta answered the other with full-on silence as he matched the other's disgusted eyes with challenging ones. Then Trunks relented.

He sighed exasperatedly. "Fine. _Can you_ explain yourself, pretty please?" Trunks said with subtle sarcasm.

"He asked for it, I acquiesced. He's been excelling thus far and this tournament would be a good test for him."

"So it was _your_ idea," Trunks said to Vegeta. "Why are you suddenly training random people?" Then his eyes turned to Malachi. "And I find it hard to believe that you'd even be able to survive that kind of training my father does."

"He can be relentless," Malachi said, "But it's not that bad once you get the hang of it."

Malachi's answer did little to settle Trunks' questions who looked at him with eyes that suggested he didn't quite believe him.

"He's human," Vegeta said gruffly, "So I would not subject him to the same thing I did you."

"Well, lucky you," Trunks said finally understanding as he looked to Malachi. "And you hope to impress him by winning?"

"I'm not overly concerned about impressing anyone. He _suggested_ I enter and I decided I would. Experience is the best teacher."

"To what end?" Trunks asked.

"Because I've found that I enjoy combat and I want to become stronger. Perhaps one day, strong enough to defeat your father."

Trunks laughed at this. It started out as a chuckle, then it became all out laughter to the point that he had trouble breathing as if he'd heard the best joke in the world. He was also drawing a lot of attention to himself as others began to look towards them.

"Are you alright?" Majuub asked concerned.

It took a moment for Trunks to compose himself. "Yeah, I'm fine," he said with a grin. "The thought of you challenging him like that—There is no way in _hell_ that you, a guy who sings cheesy pop songs for a living, will be able to come _close_ to his level and if my father _ever_ gave you any sliver of a reason to make you believe it was possible, then you obviously have far too active of an imagination. You couldn't even defeat _me_ let alone my father."

Vegeta noticed Malachi's darkening expression as Trunks spoke. His easy smile was gone replaced with a look of unmistakable malice.

"I must have given you the wrong impression about my prowess as a fighter," Malachi said darkly. "I could defeat a weakling like you in my sleep," Malachi said stepping closer to Trunks. "And I would be more than happy to prove that."

Trunks expression had become serious at this. "You just don't know when to back down. You're making a complete fool out of yourself right now. I suggest you stop while you're ahead. I've trained with my father for years ever since the day I could walk and put a sentence together—fighting is in my blood."

"Hmph, then it will be all the more humiliating once you lose to a mere human like me."

"You've got guts, I'll give you that, but you clearly have no idea what you're dealing with."

"Oh, but I do," Malachi insisted darkly, "All too well."

Trunks shook his head at the incensed man.

"Coward," Malachi said singularly.

"You're not worth my time or effort, but I do wish you well in the tournament," Trunks said deciding to not give in to the growing tension.

This seemed to catch the other off guard as his look began to soften. "Thank you, but I won't let you off that easily."

"Give it a rest," Trunks said exasperatedly.

Malachi gazed at the other intently. "You've insulted the wrong person."

It was then that Trunks must have truly paid attention to Malachi's countenance as he replied. "Geez, will you take it easy? It's not like I'm telling you something that isn't true."

The air had become so thick with tension that one could cut it with a knife. He'd managed to make it this far into one of these blasted parties Bulma would throw every so often only for it to deteriorate right here, Vegeta thought wearily. He had to think of something to say quickly before things got out of a hand. Besides, Vegeta thought watching Malachi, his darkening mood was making him feel a bit uneasy. Vegeta knew that he was in no physical danger, nor was his son, but there was enough substance behind his anger to give him pause.

"Malachi," Vegeta said drawing his attention, "Focus your energy on the upcoming tournament. Continue becoming stronger as you've been doing and one day you might achieve your goal."

Vegeta felt Trunks' flabbergasted look on him clearly caught off guard by his vote of confidence.

"Am I missing something?" Trunks asked, "Did you just—"

He afforded his son a side-glance and a look of warning.

Just then, Bra walked up to them full of cheerful energy as she immediately wrapped her arms around the then rigid Malachi from behind and propped her head upon his shoulder. Vegeta's sensitive nose could smell the alcohol on her breath—it was likely the reason for her good mood.

"When are we gonna' start the karaoke?" Bra asked in faux pleading tones with him.

"Whenever your mother thinks it's time," Malachi answered looking down at her, his voice considerably softer than it had been a few moments ago.

"Karaoke?" Majuub asked as he was unfamiliar with the term.

"Oh, you're gonna love it!" Bra said, "It's pretty self-explanatory once you see it. And you have to sing a song too," Bra said looking at Trunks, "to make up for all that time we haven't been hanging out."

"Me?" Trunks said unprepared for her declaration.

"Please; don't act like you're shy all of sudden. It'll be just like old times!" Bra said gleefully, "And your girlfriend is hot. What is she, a D-cup? We're definitely going to hang out more—shame on you for hiding her away like that!"

Now Trunks really was blushing.

"Malachi, are you gonna sing that song I really like for me?" she asked looking up at him.

"Yes," he said with a smile returning to his face. His index finger tapped her nose, "I will sing your favorite sappy love song just for you."

As if on cue, Bulma called out to the crowd that had gathered there that day. Bulma was quite the socialite and usually took charge of such functions. There was a stage already set up by the time Vegeta was looking towards Bulma. Vegeta was not exactly looking forward to such things and since he understood music a bit more than he had in the past, he could more fully appreciate how horrible everyone else was at singing. There was no way anyone could convince him to stand up in front of everyone and make a complete and utter fool out of himself…unless Bulma asked him to. He hoped she wouldn't do such a thing.

Malachi and Bra had already left them and Majuub had wandered off to talk to others. It was just Vegeta and Trunks standing apart from the others.

"So, are you going to tell me why you're bothering to train him?" Trunks asked.

Vegeta felt his eyes on him, but he did not feel like answering especially when he could not put his reasoning fully into words at the moment. He stood silent as he watched Krillin volunteer first which came as no surprise to him.

"You might have pissed off the wrong person. I can't always read him so who knows if he's bluffing or not." Trunks looked at him unconvinced. Vegeta pushed the other forward, pressing his hand against his back. "Now go join your sister—she obviously misses you."

"Well," Trunks said as he straightened himself, "don't hide in a corner for the rest of the night."

Vegeta didn't give the other an answer as Trunks eventually walked off to the others. There were tables set out and the lighting was turned down a bit. He was already tuning out the awful singing, but he could feel that everyone was in high spirits. One table consisted of Bulma, Chi-Chi, and Pan. As long as Bulma was there, he didn't mind sitting at a table completely of women and she'd left one seat open beside her. She expected him to join her.

Quite a few people went up as Vegeta finally took his fill of the food there. Yamcha's unfortunate performance was particularly grating on his ears. Hercule had sang through a couple classic rock songs that everyone seemed to know. 18 was surprisingly good and the others had called for an encore. Marron, Bulla, and Pan went up together and their performance was…cute. It became obvious to Vegeta that the alcohol was doing its work on everyone. Trunks was a great deal looser by the time he took the mic in hand far more than what he'd been when he first arrived. Also, Bra was clearly tipsy as her shouts of encouragement when Trunks first took the stage was far louder than anyone else's. It was a song that Vegeta had not heard before as had been the case for all the previous songs. The sounds of blaring guitars featured heavily. Trunks knew the song so well that he didn't have to look at the words and appeared as if he was quite enjoying himself. Just as Bra had indicated, this was obviously not something he was a stranger to. His voice was decent. It wasn't offkey, but there was nothing overly fascinating about it. Vegeta couldn't help but feel some pride knowing that his offspring was not the worst singers in there that day. He understood that it wasn't a competition and that he was in the presence of a crowd that supported one another, but it was still nice to know.

Vegeta wouldn't admit this aloud, but he was looking forward to Malachi taking the stage, but it became obvious that he was waiting until the very end. It was quite late into the night by the time Malachi performed.

"A number of people asked me to do a few songs for them. I mean, I wasn't planning on doing more than one, but what the hell—you guys don't mind, right? How could I say no to my friends?"

Vegeta could hear a bit of slur to his voice and he seemed to be in a carefree mood. It didn't seem like he would be taking things too seriously which was a shame. He spoke as if he'd known them forever, but he'd only met most of them today. He must have already gotten well acquainted with everyone. After getting a positive response from the audience he continued.

"Hope you don't mind, but I have to do my girl's selection first. Les' get this started."

There was a moment when all was quiet as they waited with bated breath. When the music started, it seemed to transform his demeanor. He adlibbed a few words as they were not ones that Vegeta actually saw come across the screen and even when he did start singing, it didn't quite follow the lyrics. If anything, it sounded more conversational. Vegeta glanced over at Bra whose eyes were transfixed upon the man—he appeared to be speaking directly to her. His voice was gentle as he began with the first two lines this time following the lyrics:

 _Tears, I see drop from your eyes_

 _Tell me why you cry_

It was a slow song and he drug out the last word of each line and his voice resonated beautifully with the music. He sounded differently, Vegeta realized. He wasn't trying to sound like his usual self. Instead, he was imitating someone else's voice.

 _Guilt, I feel when you look at me_

 _Did I let you down?_

Then he moved right into the hook. He wasn't in his usual range of high notes. It was lower now and much more sensual and he did not seem to be holding back at all. His voice easily projected throughout the room. Everyone else had struggled to do the same.

 _Girl you see that I,_

 _I apologize_

 _Tell me what to do_

 _To get through to you_

 _Girl it's not the same_

 _I know I was to blame_

 _Just tell me when will I_

 _See you smile again_

Then the chorus began and he was adlibbing again as pre-recorded voices harmonized the words for it. His voice was pitch-perfect and had become charged with emotion.

 _Promises I know I made many times before_  
 _And I broke each one of them_  
 _But I had to learn over and over and over again_  
 _Don't hurt the one you love_

Words fell smoothly from his mouth as he made his way through another heartfelt verse. It really was sappy, but not altogether despondent. There was a third verse as well, but it was more like singing and talking at the same time. It probably would have been a difficult song to karaoke as it wasn't completely cut-and-dry singing the whole time. The audience was entranced by now and Malachi simply went into several more songs. Vegeta hadn't known until that moment just how dynamic his voice could be. He hardly exercised such diversity in his music, at least not in the ones that were popular.

He was glad Bulma never requested he do anything. Then again, he hadn't pissed her off in a while so perhaps this was his reward. Yamcha had requested some off the wall rock and roll song with strange words and unknown meaning, but Malachi seemed all too happy to perform it.

The hour was late by the time the party came to a close. It had been a long day. They weren't expected to leave that night as some were a bit inebriated and there was plenty of room at Malachi's place. Malachi, himself, wasn't too concerned about where people turned in for the night.

Bulma seemed to be hanging out with Chi-Chi quite a bit and they'd disappeared somewhere in the house after the karaoke. Vegeta found Malachi in one of the main living rooms sitting on a couch with Yamcha and Puar. They seemed too engrossed in conversation to even notice him.

"You mean this little creature can turn into anything?" Malachi asked incredulously.

"Yep," Puar confirmed in his high-pitched voice, "I graduated from the Shapeshifting Academy."

"I've never heard of that school before. Is it something that only certain people can do?" he asked.

"Well," Puar began thoughtfully, "Not as far as I can remember."

"Do you know the countless possible applications of such a technique?" Malachi said clearly liking the idea of shapeshifting.

"I mean, it's not like it would make you stronger," Yamcha said, not exactly following the other's excitement.

"Stronger?" Malachi said with a laugh, "No, but think about it. You could turn into anything of any size. You could turn into _anyone_ ," Malachi said in conspiring tones.

"But you don't become that person—it's just like an illusion," Yamcha reminded him.

"Well, of course, it is," Malachi continued unperturbed, "But you could catch someone off guard, cause them to hesitate, throw off their mental state or lose their focus—and you can do all that without ever saying a word."

"I don't know about all that…" Yamcha said.

"Example; say I was fighting Krillin and I turned into 18 or better yet Marron in the midst of battle. Even if he knew it was an illusion, I'm quite certain he would hesitate."

"That sounds really twisted to be doing that kind of stuff to someone you know."

"Yes, well, it was only an example," Malachi said looking away, "I'd likely not do it unless absolutely necessary."

"But when would that every be necessary against a friend?" Yamcha asked.

"Assuming those stories you told me about Majin and Bebi are right, I could think of a few times."

"Oh, yeah," Yamcha said thinking better of the situation, "I always forget about that."

"If it can happen twice, it could certainly happen again. But think about it, not only can you turn into anyone, you could turn into anything. Theoretically, you could turn into something really small. It could be an evading technique."

"Wow, you're really putting a lot of thought into it."

Vegeta noted that they both sounded a bit tipsy, but it seemed as if their ability to speak full sentences had not been compromised. Not only that, however, Vegeta decided he wanted to simply eavesdrop on them rather than joining their conversation. Neither one of them seemed to notice him nearby so he stepped further away still so that he was virtually invisible. Many of the lights were turned off as some were turning in for the night.

"I'm just throwing ideas around. I've been wracking my brain with trying to figure out how I could defeat Vegeta."

Now Vegeta was paying extra attention.

"Defeat that guy?" Yamcha said with a laugh, "You're insane! He could wipe the floor with both of us and not even break a sweat."

"Why? 'cus he's a Saiyan?" Malachi retorted.

"Well, yeah," Yamcha said loudly in a tone that suggested that he thought it was obvious.

"I saw him transform one time into a Super Saiyan right in front of me—an obvious scare tactic, but I played it off. Not that I wasn't fascinated at the time, but I _really_ felt my mortality right then, if you know what I mean."

"Right in front of you? Geez, that guy is always showing off."

"I always keep thinking back to that time knowing that that was probably just the tip of the iceberg. I couldn't really sense energy that well at that point—still can't do it very well—but I definitely felt an exponential jump in energy. How is that even possible? Is he bending the laws of physics or is there something more there happening?"

"Man, I don't know—he's a Saiyan."

"Damn it, that's not a real explanation!" Malachi said in frustration. "What even makes a Saiyan so different from a human if they can make babies? I mean, polar bears and grizzly bears."

"Wait, you're losing me," Yamcha said.

"Do you know how physiologically similar you have to be for all that? And your explanation is 'because he's Saiyan'? Maybe Saiyans are just able to do stuff like that more easily. I mean, Vegeta taught me how to create a power blast—and that instruction must have come from his own experience. I'm pretty sure ki works the same way for humans as it would for a Saiyan."

"Pretty much," Yamcha said agreeing with the other though not confidently.

Malachi was standing up now. It was obvious that he felt strongly about this. "And when I was gathering Krillin's energy that time when I was fighting him—it was a struggle just to keep it all together. It was massive and it gave me that same feeling I got when I saw Vegeta transform."

"You can't mean..." Yamcha said, his tone now suggesting real interest.

"Oh, yes," he said with a nod. "But then, when it all returned to him, it felt differently."

"But what does that mean?" Yamcha asked.

"I don't know," Malachi said in which the other's face fell. "But something happened. The energy is there yet it's different. Maybe it's distributed differently? Who knows," Malachi said waving his arms, "Think about it. It's not like Saiyans are born powerful, right?"

"Yeah, but anyone could tell Goku was a cut above the rest even as a kid."

"That's beside the point," Malachi said dismissively, "He still had to train and all that jazz to become more powerful. It's not like it just fell into his lap."

"So you just think that if you train, you can reach a Saiyan's power level?" Yamcha asked with a laugh.

"I mean, why not? Ki works the same for us and them. They train to become more powerful and we can do the same thing."

"It doesn't work like that, trust me," Yamcha said, "I've been training for all my life—and there's just no way a human can be that powerful by doing that. That transformation; it's incomprehensible!" Now Yamcha was getting worked up as well.

"We're obviously missing something," Malachi declared.

"Yeah—DNA."

"No, I'm serious. If I could just see it again, I think it will all make sense. Last time, I wasn't ready, but if I could just _feel_ it again—see the process from start to finish then—"

"Then what? _You'll_ be able to be Super Saiyan? I'd like to see the day."

"Super Saiyan—that's just a name; it literally just means a substantial increase in base power. You really think we're not capable of doing that? And when I say increase, I mean it percentage wise so it's not the same for everyone. Let me ask you this. Are all Super Saiyans the same power level?"

"Now that I think about it…"

"Exactly!" Malachi said with a snap of his finger. "Exactly," Malachi repeated.

"You're really going to do it, huh?" Yamcha said and then burst out laughing. "Listen, I think these drinks are playing tricks with your head."

"We'll just have to see, won't we?" Malachi said as he finally sat down. "And you're gonna' teach me that shapeshifting technique, right Puar?"

Puar was obviously caught off guard by his question and then looked to Yamcha for support. In response, Yamcha merely shrugged.

"I guess I could try…I went to school for it. It took _twelve years_ for me to actually do it well."

"Don't worry," Malachi said laying back on the couch now, "They say I'm a fast learner. And if you want compensation, it's totally not a problem," he assured the other.

"Well…"

"Just think about, will ya? It would be pre-tty sweet to do that kind of thing. Mmf, pretty awesome…"

Puar remained undecided, but it was then that they noticed Malachi nodding off. That was when Vegeta slipped out of the room realizing that their intriguing conversation had come to an end. Vegeta wasn't sure if Malachi's bold suppositions were true, but his theories had given him an eerie feeling and much to think about. Could there exist humans who could power up in the same way as a Saiyan? Only time would tell.

* * *

 **AN** : There was just so many characters in this that I couldn't keep it short and I didn't want to split it into more than one chapters.

 **WineIXI** : Thanks. I hope you stay for the whole ride. Get ready for more cheesy pop songs, some action every now and then, some drama and a plot somewhere in there. Lol.


	12. Galick Gun

T **he days were drawing ever closer to the World Martial Arts Tournament and the anticipation Vegeta was feeling was starting to get on his nerves.** It was becoming harder and harder to pass the time. At the very least, he saw Bulma a lot more as she stayed at home to fiddle with her work in the large compound they lived in. It would often be a struggle peeling her away from her work and suggesting that they do _something_ together. Vegeta couldn't help but feel a bit naggy, but it was something that they both needed.

They'd gone sightseeing a number of times around the world to places that Bulma had read about at some point. He'd even bit the bullet and took her shopping—her favorite pastime—and expanded his wardrobe a bit as well. He'd sat down with her at theaters to watch movies that she'd been meaning to watch. It hadn't been an altogether terrible experience—she enjoyed sci-fi and action flicks over romantic comedies.

But even spending more time with Bulma couldn't stave off the eventual boredom as she got back to her work that always beckoned her. That was when he received a call from Malachi. He wasn't nearly as upset as before when he realized it was him.

"Yeah?" Vegeta asked.

"Hello to you too," Malachi said with a chuckle.

"What did you want?" Vegeta pressed.

Malachi sighed, "Guess it's always straight to the point with you, huh? A thought came to me just now. Do you have a signature move like that Kamehameha everyone seems to do?"

A few things went through Vegeta's mind at that moment mainly that Malachi even knew what a Kamehameha was—it wasn't something he'd talked about. It made him start to wonder what he'd been doing in the past week. He seemed to be on good terms with Yamcha and he'd met pretty much everyone at that party. Did he already know how to perform the Kamehameha? But then, that wouldn't make sense with the level of power Malachi possessed. At the very least, such a move would leave him quite weakened.

"Are you free now?" Vegeta asked instead of answering the other's question.

"Well, yeah, knowing you'd just appear at my place if I asked something like that."

No sooner had Malachi finished his sentence, Vegeta had already hung up the phone and was making his way to Malachi's place. He found Malachi outside just as he was putting his phone away. He'd ended the call abruptly and left the other hanging, but Vegeta wasn't concerned with details like that. Malachi was only mildly surprised when Vegeta made his presence known.

"Are you ready?" Vegeta asked the other presently.

"As ready as I'll ever be. You still haven't told me what it's called."

"Galick Gun," Vegeta replied simply, doing away with all the growing suspense. "When I was much younger, it took me a while to perfect, so I don't expect you to learn it quickly."

Vegeta thought back to the time when he was teaching young Trunks that very move.

"It's a specialized power blast, right?" Malachi asked. "How difficult could it be?"

Vegeta sighed exasperatedly, "Fine, I'll just show you."

It was easier to show than to explain. He made sure that Malachi could see him clearly as he moved into the proper stance. He realized at that moment that it had been a while since he'd performed the attack. Very rarely did he stay in his base form when fighting seriously. He gathered the electrified purple energy in his palms facing each other. Though he could now pull off the move pretty quickly, he moved slowly so that the other could understand better. He gathered his energy as his body became encased in fierce purple ki. Then he released it with both palms facing outward. In lieu of not demolishing the entire backyard, Vegeta quickly made his way opposite of the blast and sent it flying upward to the sky.

After the light show, Vegeta turned to Malachi whose eyes were still trained on the disappearing power blast as it rose higher and higher.

"Simple, right?" Vegeta said mockingly to the other.

"That was incredible," Malachi admitted. "Conceptually similar to a Kamehameha."

"Watch it, boy," Vegeta snapped at such an implication.

"Oh, but it's different too," Malachi said quickly picking up on the other's irritation. "It gives off a certain mood—I can tell it's something you made up on your own, it fits you perfectly."

"Are you going to keep analyzing it or are you going to actually attempt it."

"You want me to try it right now?" Malachi asked surprised.

"Practice makes perfect," Vegeta replied.

"I saw you do it. I get how it's supposed to go. Isn't that enough?"

"You can't be serious," Vegeta said, "Seeing it and actually doing are two different things."

Malachi sighed at this, "Fine—I'll do it just for you. Since I can only pull it off once, guess I'll just have it do it perfect on the first go," he finished with a grin.

"Right," Vegeta said unconvinced, "Get on with it already."

Malachi thought for a moment, before moving into the proper stance. Then from there, he began to gather his energy. His usual mist-like ki became more charged and substantial as a gray light formed in his slightly curled palms. It seemed quite the undertaking for him as his energy slowly began to expand. Frankly, Vegeta didn't think he had enough ki to do anything close to the level of intensity needed for such a move. Just as Vegeta predicted, that odd feeling came back to him—the one that made him feel queasy. It was never as acute as it felt at this point. A near invisible aura sparked around his form and he cried out when he finally unleashed it. Though Vegeta didn't think it was going to do much to the yard, he still jumped in to deflect it skyward. It dispersed quickly.

When Vegeta turned to the other again, he found Malachi already sitting down likely from exhaustion with his head bowed. He looked up as Vegeta approached him.

"See? Perfect," Malachi said with a grin that was far too cocky for Vegeta's taste. It only made Vegeta want to burst his bubble all the more.

"You plan on actually striking someone with that move?" Vegeta sneered.

And with that his triumphant half-smile disappeared. "I haven't gotten to that part yet."

"It takes you too much time to gather up your ki—it's easily evaded. And if you were going up against a decent fighter who could pull off a powerful ki blast, they will have gotten there's off well before you."

"The day you see me trying to outmatch someone with pure energy is the day I've apparently lost my mind. Who do you honestly think I could beat going about it that way?"

"Then why did you want to learn it in the first place?" Vegeta countered.

"Because," he said with a huff, "I wanted to learn _your_ move."

"To what end?" Vegeta pressed.

"I was planning on using it in the tournament."

"Hmph, yet you've already heard of Kamehameha and who knows what else."

"Do I hear jealousy in your tone? I wanted to use your move because you're the one who trained me."

Vegeta was unprepared for such a statement and he felt a bit embarrassed for pressing for an answer, but he didn't let the other know. "If you want to use a move that's completely useless to you in battle, then be my guest."

"Oh, I will. I'll think of something," Malachi replied with an air of nonchalant.

Vegeta was beginning to think Malachi actually _enjoyed_ wracking his brain over doing impossible things.

"You've been busy in the last week," Vegeta finally acknowledged hoping the other would divulge to him exactly what he'd been doing.

"I have," Malachi admitted. "I met so many powerful people at that party yet I'd never heard of them and none of them had any interest in entering the tournament. Majuub can turn living beings into chocolate? 18 is a cyborg on par with the strength of a Saiyan? They're all accomplished fighters which means they all have a lot of useful knowledge if only I could get them to talk.

"Yamcha gave me a few pointers. Krillin showed me his destructo disc which seems pretty useful, but still power draining. And both of them told me to go to Master Roshi."

"So you've been training with Master Roshi?" Vegeta asked.

"Well, no. He offered, but I decided not to," Malachi said with a sigh. "I didn't think it was necessary, but we did talk. He showed me his Kamehameha Wave—the one that everyone seems to be able to do. That too seemed super draining to perform properly; for me anyway. Then Yamcha introduced me to Tien. Man, that guy was pretty intense. Talk about a trainaholic. But he did teach me something rather useful."

"Another energy blast?" Vegeta questioned.

"Well, he knows a number of them, but he mentioned something far more useful: the ability to split oneself into four copies."

Vegeta very nearly rolled his eyes at this. "So then you'll be four times weaker. I fail to see how that's helpful."

"Maybe, but if all four doppelgangers are attacking the same person, it shouldn't matter."

"Then why bother splitting in the first place if you're going to attack one target?"

Malachi grinned at him. "Intimidation, of course. Will my opponent know that my power is also split or will they be more surprised that they're surrounded by clones? In the heat of battle, even the smallest of surprises can be taken advantage of—don't you agree?"

Vegeta was silent for a moment, but then finally replied. "You might be disappointed with the competition you'll find at the tournament."

"It's fine to have theories, but it's even better to have them confirmed. I want to see what will happen in real combat. In that context, I won't be disappointed. I've read up as much as I can on those who have entered and I have some vague plans of how best to defeat them. I'm anxious to see how it all turns out. Will you be there?"

"You know I will—I'm the one who suggested you enter in the first place," Vegeta answered in agitated tones.

"Just making sure. I hope I can be of some entertainment to you, Mr. Prince."

Vegeta couldn't be sure how sincere he was being when he used nicknames such as that, but only time would tell. He wondered if he actually learned three new techniques in the span of a week. He'd never heard of anyone learning something so quickly. Surely, he couldn't be that proficient in them. He could only judge him on the performance he'd seen today. A move that had taken Trunks a week to do properly was easily learned within minutes by Malachi. He was only limited in the level of ki that he possessed. Charging his ki had taken far too long and the overall intensity of the attack was lacking in comparison to his own, however, in comparison to what Malachi was capable of doing, it was, in fact, quite intense. If this was the case in this instance, then it would not be a stretch for someone like Malachi to learn—perhaps not master—so many different moves in a short time.

There was a thought that came to Vegeta's mind and it was one he'd had many times in the past after he witnessed Goku's Instant Transmission. He'd seen it many times in battle against him or against other enemies and he never understood how it worked. He understood the gist—Goku would pinpoint someone's ki signature, and then somehow transmit himself to that very spot. The concept itself didn't make sense in his mind, but he had tried to imitate it on many separate occasions to no avail. He knew there was some small detail he was missing. Surely if Goku could do it and some weakling unknown race could do it, then he could as well. Yet it had never happened. Of course, it would have been easier to simply ask for instruction, but Vegeta could never bring himself to doing such a thing.

"Have you heard of a technique called Instant Transmission?" Vegeta asked to the still sitting Malachi. Vegeta was standing a little ways from him.

"No…" Malachi said slowly. "What is it?"

"It allows the user to instantly translocate themselves to a person's pinpointed ki signature."

Malachi's eyes widened at this. "What?" he said incredulously, "You've been holding out on me. Instantly translocate? That could certainly even the playing field when fighting someone ridiculously faster than me. How does it work? Can you do it—Can I see it?"

Vegeta had piqued the other's interest, but he could hardly answer the boy's questions. He moved so that he stood in front of the other. "I knew someone who could perform such a thing and I doubt seeing it done would have yielded enough information for you—there isn't much to be seen and it doesn't require ki to perform. You would simply be translocated."

"Hm, I see," Malachi said after a moment. "And I'm guessing that someone who could do it is…no longer around to give us the details."

"You catch on quickly. As far as I know, you have to be able to detect someone's ki signature precisely and feel that person's location. Then the rest happens instantly."

"The instant part—this sounds like some quantum physics level stuff. It's physically impossible for a solid mass to move about instantly like that so I bet it has more to do with moving individual _molecules_ than just your whole intact body. To think someone could do that with just their mind…I guess it stands to reason if it's possible to manipulate ki like that, then your entire being can be controlled in the same way…It all sounds really complicated and difficult." Malachi paused in his musings as he looked up at Vegeta once again. "Who was this guy who could do such a thing—was he some kind of genius or something?"

Vegeta snorted, "He had his moments."

"If he could sustain such intense concentration, then there are countless applications for that ability. Then combine that with a mastery of combat. You could instantly position yourself at the right moment to make sure your attacks always hit. I mean, that would practically solve most of the issues with my admittedly slow execution of that Galick Gun."

"Perhaps, but it might not help if you're facing an opponent with unpredictable movements."

"True," Malachi said thoughtfully.

"So do you think you could perform such a technique on your own?"

"Ah…well…not really. Sensing someone's ki still doesn't—I'm just not that good at it. One day I'll get the hang of it and then everything would fall into place, but I don't think it would be anytime soon."

"What exactly is complicated about sensing ki after all those other things you've claimed to have learned?"

"I don't know," Malachi said waving his hands in defeat. "Everyone describes it as a feeling, but no one can really describe that feeling and its apparently just something you learn on your own."

"I suppose that is the case," Vegeta said when he realized that he could shed little light on the subject. It was something that would develop naturally and could not be described in definite terms.

Seeing as he had no more to discuss with the boy and he'd more or less taught the other his signature move, Vegeta decided to take his leave. Besides, Malachi already seemed deep in thought as he laid back onto the ground still recovering from the extensive use of his meager ki. He wondered how much time he spent trying to come up with a plan to defeat him. There were quite a few tools that Malachi now had in his arsenal, but would that be enough? The power gap between them was far too wide for Malachi to ever compensate, right? In his experience, however, power did not always trump skill. He wondered if he could apply such a rule to the yet inexperienced Malachi who could just barely pull off a ki blast. He wondered why he sometimes felt as if he was nurturing a kudzu plant.

* * *

 **AN:** Just an eensy-weensy bit of edging for the tournament which will be the following chapter. I decided to put it all in one long chapter as opposed to splitting it up. It'll be done in the next couple days. Also, guess I'll let you know here that I've reached the end of the chapters I'd already written on paper while I was bored waiting for ride requests when I was driving for Uber. Actually, I reached it a couple chapters ago. At long last, I can just type out the chapter instead of copying from a notebook.

 **WildHeart44:** I was thinking about going the obvious route, but thought it'd be funnier if Vegeta wound up liking the complete opposite. The thought always gives me a laugh. And if you think about it, rock and roll is a fusion of rhythm  & blues and country and then rock stems from that…it all works out?

Oh, Malachi, always trying to be the best at whatever he does despite the increasing odds. Maybe secretly Vegeta likes that even if he does have his misgivings. He desperately wants a challenge—one with real stakes. A recipe for disaster if you ask me.

 **WineIXI:** I know, Krillin was keeping up with Goku at some point. Then that went out the window with Dragon Ball Z. I mean, I didn't really watch Dragon Ball, but in Z he always seemed significantly weaker than Goku. That Kaio-ken move that Goku learns from King Kai doesn't seem like a move that only Saiyans can do—it just turned out that Goku is the only person trained by King Kai who could actually learn it. They didn't go into specifics about it in the show, but I think it has a lot to do with ki control…

And I'm totally being long-winded on these feedbacks. Think I'll stop here for the night.


	13. World Martial Arts Tournament

**Vegeta sat in the crowd that would be spectating the World Martial Arts Tournament along with most of those who had attended Bulma's party a few weeks ago with the addition of Tien and Chiaotzu.** Tien had claimed that it was nice to take a break every now and then and that it was the least he could do after Malachi had gone out of his way to meet him. "That boy is a sponge," Vegeta recalled Tien commenting, "It's a shame he only wanted to learn one move in particular." Trunks was noticeably missing, but Terri was there and sat close to his family.

The crowd looked to already be in high spirits that day yet the competition hadn't even begun. It was a full house this time though it had not been that way for the past couple tournaments. Vegeta didn't remember waiting so long for something of interest to occur, but it did seem that the organization running the tournament was ill-prepared for the amount of people that had shown up. Lines for buying food were too long for Vegeta to even consider standing in. Despite that, however, his sensitive nose could pick up scents of hot food further agitating him. His arms were presently crossed and he wore a mask of impatience. The others chatted casually amongst themselves despite the waiting, but today he did not feel like engaging in such activities. Bulma could probably sense this as she did not attempt to include him in conversation.

The preliminaries were happening behind the scenes which was another reason nothing was happening. Wouldn't it be just his luck if Malachi somehow couldn't make it passed a simple punching test? The announcer finally stepped out on stage to inform them that finally the tournament had begun. The first few fights did not contain Malachi, but they were somewhat interesting to watch. The tournament seemed filled with overly muscular men who attacked viciously at their opponents from the get-go and the crowd loved every minute of it. The last fight left the loser permanently maimed and unable to even stand on his own. Vegeta felt Bra's eyes on him for a moment, but when he turned his head to return the favor, she was looking elsewhere. She didn't need to say anything—she was nervous.

The very next fight, Malachi walked out to the center of the arena—the crowd went nuts and Vegeta had to cover his ears at the sudden increase of volume. It didn't help that Malachi was pandering to them. He waved his arms up to encourage their cheers and soon they were chanting his name at the top of their lungs: MA-LA-CHI! MA-LA-CHI! Needless to say, the announcer's voice was drowned out. Vegeta had to look around in amazement—everyone was in-sync and Bulma too had taken to chanting and quite a few others of their group. People were standing as well and whistling. It went on for so long that the announcer simply continued talking when he realized he couldn't control the crowd. Soon Malachi's scrawny looking opponent stepped out to join him. Immediately, the crowd starting boo-ing the poor man before going back to chanting Malachi's name again. The announcer said something more that no one could hear and the battle commenced. It was then that the rowdy crowd settled down again if only a little.

Vegeta noticed that Malachi did not wear his usual protective gloves and greaves, but it was likely because it was against the rules. The scrawny brunette man charged at the other immediately, but Malachi easily evaded it with a simple sidestep. The crowd went crazy once again which drew an exasperated sigh from Vegeta. This crowd would be the death of his hearing. The scrawny man had quite the right hook which was what he was trying to nail Malachi with, but it made him predictable and Malachi evaded him quite a few more times. It took a moment to realize that Malachi was likely toying with him as he wore a delighted expression. At some point, the opponent struck so hard and missed so horribly that his momentum wound up working against him and he fell to the ground. Malachi feigned a yawn to indicate how bored he was which drew some laughter from the onlookers. Then he offered his hand to the helpless man. Once he grabbed it, Malachi gripped the man's hand firmly and with a surprising show of strength pulled him up and threw him across the stage straight out of bounds. Vegeta didn't think the crowd could get louder, but they did. Bra had joined in as well.

The announcer could once again not be heard and Malachi was not helping as he pointed towards the crowd and bowed graciously to them before taking his leave. Vegeta wondered how seriously he was taking the fight. He knew firsthand how cockiness could be a great hindrance. Then again, he supposed he didn't blame him. If there was an intense crowd chanting his name every time he came out to fight someone—he'd have a hard time not getting the big head or paying attention to the fight. His ears were given a rest when Malachi disappeared to the back and another fight began.

"Wow, Malachi's going to sail through this tournament if it keeps up like this," Bulma commented beside him.

"I told you—the boy is more than capable."

Vegeta was so confident that Malachi would run into no problems that he hardly felt like watching the rest of it, but he sighed and stayed seated for Bra's sake. He had not forgotten the subtle threat she'd given him at the get-together. If his presence made her feel a little less uneasy about all of this, then he would remain seated. He kept track of the fights as he drew a mental image in his mind of the tree diagram he knew was governing the matches. Malachi was on the left leg of the chart as his fight had occurred within the first four fights. The fights that would determine the right leg of the chart was beginning now.

They were all in for a rude awakening when they heard Trunks' name called. The announcer informed the crowd who he was and the fact that he was a veteran fighter having competed and won in the junior level all those years before. He received quite a few cheers from the crowd, but confused looks from their section.

"Did you know?" Vegeta heard Bulma ask Terri who sat beside her.

Terri shook her head, "He made no mention of it. I assumed he was working again when he said he couldn't join me."

"Seems like he instinctively kept us in the dark," Vegeta said to them, "Perhaps this tournament will be more interesting than I thought."

Vegeta noticed Bra standing up now gazing out to the ring as if she was willing the other to see her. For a brief moment, Trunks did turn towards their group no doubt sensing their presence, but he did little more than wave good naturedly to them as if this had been part of the plan all along. Bra finally sat down when the fight began, but her arms were crossed and she was obviously fuming.

Trunks' first opponent went the way of Malachi's opponent. He didn't bother with actually fighting him probably for fear of doing some real damage to him and tossed him cleanly out of the ring. He didn't toy with his opponent or pander to the crowd—he simply won the match and calmly left the stage. Clearly the crowd was impressed as they cheered for him the whole way.

As Malachi came back out eventually to playfully defeat his opponent once again, Vegeta knew what was going to happen. Everyone knew. The tournament was no longer about Malachi showing up the other contestants—it was the eventual semi-finals that would pit the two strongest contestants against each other. After that, the Champion fight would pale in comparison. Vegeta would not admit it out loud with Bra so close by, but he was anticipating that fight. Finally, Vegeta could see if Malachi was simply bluffing last time or if he could actually take Trunks on.

That time couldn't come soon enough as the competition moved to the quarter finals and finally to the semi-finals. All the fights up until that point had not been as intense as in the past, but now the slow-moving tournament would finally see a decent fight. This time, the crowd became almost dead silent when the announcer gave the go-ahead for the match to begin. They seemed to be in their own little world as Malachi paid the crowd little mind this time. They said a few words to one another and Vegeta was finally able to hear what was being said out on the arena.

"Let's start out with a little warm-up," Trunks said as soon as the match began.

"Do what you want, but I'll be taking this seriously."

"Come, Malachi—it wouldn't be good PR to leave you broken and defeated only five seconds into the fight."

The two of them charged at each other at practically the same time. A fierce barrage of fists and kicks were dished out from both fighters and the crowd looked on in awe. Vegeta could see every detail quite easily along with the rest of the Z-fighters and he determined the two to be evenly matched at this point. Whereas Trunks was taking it easy, Malachi was not as each attack was thrown with considerable strength. Vegeta saw as Malachi whipped out a power blast in startling speed and smashed it into the other's face sending Trunks flying. Trunks was hardly even allowed to make sense of what had occurred before Malachi followed up with more punches and a few kicks thrown into the mix. Malachi allowed the other little breathing room before he sent the other sailing into the hard arena stage ground with a double fisted attack enhanced with ki.

Trunks was more than a little pissed as he rapidly made the ascent to his feet.

"No fair!" Trunks growled at the other. Vegeta was sure he was referring to the sudden ki blast Malachi had thrown at him.

"Oh, did that hurt you too much?" Malachi mocked.

"And here I thought we were going to keep things fair," Trunks said. "I was going to draw this out a little longer—but I see you're taking advantage of my charity."

"I came here to fight not to play games," Malachi declared.

"You asked for it—don't say I didn't warn you."

Trunks dashed at the slightly levitating Malachi. Vegeta could tell that Trunks was no longer holding back as Malachi who was able to shield himself with his own energy still stumbled back quite a bit. This time Trunks was the aggressor as he began to attack in earnest. Vegeta was sure if Trunks could land a decent hit, Malachi would crumble easily. Perhaps Bra knew this as well as she was standing now looking on anxiously. Trunks, however, was having trouble dealing a successful blow. Vegeta knew the technique well that Malachi was continually managing to pull off in the nick of time—the Afterimage Technique. The image only lasted for a brief second, but it was enough for Malachi to evade. It would be impossible for him to use it as a distraction to pull off some other attack; Malachi simply wasn't fast enough and Vegeta suspected he had just learned the move only a few days ago. Very soon Trunks tired of the other's shenanigans and ceased his endless pursuit.

"Who's the coward now?" Trunks asked standing poised to attack. "When are we actually going to fight? I know you can't keep this up forever."

Indeed Malachi was already beginning to show signs of tiring. "I still intend to win this—how is that conducive to taking hits from you?" he said back.

"You're speaking in riddles, but the answer is simple—you aren't meant to win."

Trunks struck forth again and was met with the same result, but then he spun on his heel at the last second to where he thought Malachi was only to be met with more air. Malachi was directly behind Trunks now—he smoothly twirled on one foot as the other foot sailed through the air in an overarching motion and struck Trunks on the side of his head sending him flying away a few yards. Trunks was truly angered now as he climbed back to his feet just as quickly as before.

"I'm going to end this right now!" Trunks shouted obviously embarrassed to have been struck once again.

Just like that, Trunks was powering up and Malachi watched in amazement as the other's hair turned a bright blonde and his aura sprouted fiercely around him

"You don't stand a chance now—you might as well give up," Trunks said to the now hesitating Malachi.

Malachi soon straightened up even in the face of such immense power. "I have one last trump card I was saving for the Champion, but I guess I don't have much options left. Will you be able to handle an attack that more than quadruples my power?

Trunks snorted. "You're joking—you don't expect me to fall for that—

In the blink of an eye, instead of one Malachi there were five. Vegeta realized that he had no idea if this technique was increasing his attack power—were they perfect clones or were they dividing his power? Malachi had done well to mask his ki for almost the entirety of the fight since it had begun. They'd discussed Tien teaching him this move, but had Malachi deliberately withheld the fact that he knew the advanced version of it? Vegeta wouldn't put it past him. It was impossible to tell if Malachi was capable of learning such a move as Vegeta wasn't even clear on when he'd learned it in the first place. The crowd had gasped in surprise and then then they were cheering again. Malachi surrounded Trunks on all sides now.

"Do you really want to take on all five of me?" all the clones spoke at once. It was impossible to tell which one was the original.

It was natural to assume the center one was it and Vegeta had kept his eyes on that one. But something seemed odd about that picture. He couldn't quite put his finger on it. Then, all at once, they all changed into a very familiar stance. Vegeta knew that move instantly—Galick Gun. Though Malachi didn't shout it out, it was clear his intent and he sure it wasn't lost on Trunks.

"You bastard—how _dare_ you! I'll take all of you out at once!"

The clones were all just a few feet from the ground now and they were all aiming their attacks at Trunks. Vegeta felt a distinct lack of rising ki as was associated with such a powerful attack. Malachi could possibly be masking it or else something else was going on. Trunks was powering up angrily now as the clones slowly gathered the ki in the same way that Malachi had demonstrated on the day Vegeta had taught him that move. They were forced to move back a bit to avoid Trunks' fierce aura.

Trunks had taken out two of them already with a few ki blasts and he was on his third one now. In the next second, a sixth clone came out of the clone located right behind Trunks. That was when it hit Vegeta in that moment why the situation had appeared off—clones always appeared in even numbers. Somehow the sixth one had not been generated until that moment. Malachi must have modified the technique—quite a feat for a novice. In that brief second of realization, Malachi was able to strike Trunks again with a move Vegeta had seen done before on Krillin—the unnamed one that had sent the veteran warrior to his knees. All of sudden, Trunks was no longer powering up, but hollering in pain. Trunks' elbow struck backwards and he was finally able to land a hefty attack on Malachi who was then forced to let go. Malachi fell to the ground, but so did Trunks.

The clones disappeared just like that along with their would-be attacks. Trunks was still grunting in pain on the ground as Malachi struggled back to his feet smarting an obvious wound on his side as he held it gingerly.

"Hey! Stop gawking and start the count already!" Malachi shouted to the blond man who had yet to enter the ring.

With that encouragement, the man leaped on stage and began the countdown. Malachi made his way to the strangely stiff Trunks. Vegeta was listening closely now as Malachi spoke—it was hard to hear over the announcer's loud counting.

"W-what did you _do_ to me?" Trunks said with gritted teeth as he glared at the other. There was tears in his eyes.

"I'd power down if I were you—it exacerbates the problem."

Trunks did so without argument obviously in too much pain to care much about anything else. "I still can't move," he growled angrily.

"Don't worry, it will wear off eventually nothing can keep a Saiyan down for long, but not before I win. It seems to work just as well against you as it does other humans."

"Bastard—you were bluffing, weren't you, about quadrupling your power."

"Who knows?" Malachi said with a grin just as the count finished.

"And the winner of this match is Malachi!" the announcer said aloud at which point the crowd went bonkers.

This hadn't been a quick fight, but one with substance and the famous Malachi had triumphed again—the crowd couldn't get enough of it. Vegeta was momentarily deaf at the height of the shouts. Then they started chanting his name. Vegeta looked down at Bra again, but she seemed no less worried.

"He doesn't look good," Vegeta heard Bra said, "I'm going to check on him."

No one could stop her as she flew out of her seating and sped off towards the infirmary. At the very least, she'd decided to go behind the bleachers so as not to be seen.

"I'm going as well," Vegeta said to Bulma who gave him a knowing look.

Vegeta found Bra standing before Malachi who'd taken a seat, but was doubled over in obvious pain more than what he'd let on to the masses. Blood was on the ground though it had not come from an open wound. He watched as Malachi hacked up more blood.

"Malachi—" Bra began.

"Sorry, I bit off more than I could chew…again," Malachi admitted when he looked up to her.

His skin was pallid and his eyes glassy. He was quite weakened. Could this be the result of one well-placed attack from Trunks?

"Shh, don't talk. I think you're bleeding internally," Bra said. "I know someone who can make you as good as new in no time at all."

Malachi looked at her confusedly, "I guess the Briefs can truly afford the best doctors, even miracle workers." He coughed again.

She picked him up easily into her arms in which Malachi protested. "Stop squirming," Bra ordered, "You're too weak to move on your own."

Malachi had no choice but to obey as he had little strength to do much else. Bra turned to Vegeta with Malachi securely in her arms. Her eyes stayed on him for a moment and then she shook her head slowly.

"Are you happy now, Dad?"

His eyebrows creased a little. "I can get him there faster," he offered the other.

She was silent for a long moment and then handed Malachi over who had just then lost consciousness. Vegeta turned Super Saiyan in a split second and then flew off into the air at max speed while shielding Malachi from the backlash of the wind. Malachi was slipping away quickly—Bra would not have been able to make it in time to the far-off location of the lookout.

Dende was already standing outside upon his arrival somehow knowledgeable of the dire situation. Vegeta laid the unconscious man on the ground and Dende placed his hand upon him. Vegeta watched as the miraculous healing took place. In a snap, Vegeta felt his life force returning, but he did not wake upon Dende's completion of his work.

"What's wrong with him?" Vegeta asked.

"His organs and bones have been repaired, but he's lost a lot of blood. He'll need time to recover."

"I see," Vegeta said.

It wasn't exactly the news he was hoping for, but at the very least Malachi would live and perhaps it might stave off Bra's utter disgust of him. He lifted Malachi easily into his arms and turned promptly to take him home.

"There's one more thing I've been meaning to tell you," Dende said causing the other to pause. "You're aware that Namekians are inherently able to detect whether someone's heart is good or evil."

"No, but it sounds highly convenient for someone in your position," Vegeta replied turning back to him.

"When I was much younger, I used to believe that such things were absolute, but then I met you. The fact that we can speak to each other so casually—amazes me even now. There was a time when I'd rather die than help you in any way."

"Your point?" Vegeta asked as he sensed the other going off on a tangent.

"I was getting to that," Dende replied, his tone no less placid. He turned and walked towards the edge of the lookout and Vegeta's eyes followed him. "I witness the same phenomenon in the denizens of Earth—far different from anything I felt on Namek. There are no absolutes. The hearts of men change on a whim. It cannot always be explained logically. There is such variety among them that I cannot even begin to categorize them. I say all this because Malachi concerns me."

Vegeta was listening closely now. After hearing such a comment a cold feeling began to creep down his spine.

"His heart is the deepest darkness I've ever sensed before. Were you not here to vouch for him, I would have turned you away immediately."

"Perhaps you've sensed wrong," Vegeta said caught off guard by Dende's assessment.

"I've never been wrong before."

"But," Vegeta said shaking his head slowly, "He's done nothing to substantiate what you're accusing him of."

"These are not accusations but facts. There are those who are simply born with a certain darkness. It is not something I like to speak of, but I witness it on a regular basis as I preside over the entirety of humanity. He was nurtured well enough as a child and was taught to care and love at a very young age. He realized that love could take him farther than hate and he still believes this. Yet I can still sense a deep darkness there—that tells me that he is not entirely convinced. Should he continue to surround himself with those that show him love, then certainly his heart would truly change, but…"

"But what?" Vegeta asked with a frown.

"It wouldn't take much for evil to take over entirely. That is why I warn you so that you could be prepared should anything happen."

"And you thought it _wise_ to inform me of something like this?" Vegeta asked sharply.

Dende turned, surprised by his response. "Well, yes—

"Haven't you ever heard of self-fulfilling prophecy? You've planted a seed a doubt where there should not have been. I'll constantly scrutinize his actions, make him feel as if I expect him to do something wrong. Tell me, Dende, did you bother informing Kakarot of such things as he constantly gave even his worst enemies second chances?"

"Goku is different," Dende declared, "And he would have been too hard-headed to listen if I said anything at all."

Vegeta was levitating now intending to take off with Malachi in tow. "Then I will ignore everything you've said today and I will base my opinion of him solely on his actions not on some willy-nilly notions of morality. And you will treat him accordingly."

Vegeta took off into the air before he could hear Dende's reply—he hadn't wanted to hear it anyways. Though he'd told Dende that he'd ignore his warning, the knowledge remained poisoning his thoughts as he recalled the times that Malachi had made him feel uneasy for apparently no reason at all. It would be more difficult disregarding his own misgivings. In the meantime, he would take Malachi back to the Capsule Corp compound where he lived. There was a medical ward that Bulma always had set up for emergencies. No sooner had Vegeta placed him into the proper bed, he received a call from Bulma. He answered promptly.

"People are threatening to riot up here. The announcer's just disqualified Malachi for his long absence so there's not going to be a Champion match."

"I'm on my way," Vegeta said not liking the idea of a mob of angry humans around his wife.

"No, no, I'm fine—everyone else is here too, remember? How's Malachi?"

"Dende healed him, but he still needs rest—he's in no shape to be fighting anyone at the moment."

"I'll be there soon."

"Until then," Vegeta said before ending the call.

He felt a little anxious leaving Bulma in a hectic situation back at the tournament, but when he felt for her energy she seemed at ease. Bra arrived first having followed his ki signature. When she entered the room, her eyes were already focused on Malachi and Vegeta felt as if he should give her some space. At the very least, she no longer seemed angry—she had more immediate things to consume her thoughts with. Vegeta stepped just outside the room and leaned against the nearby wall with his eyes closed.

Injuries went hand-in-hand when it came to fighting and Malachi, though sometimes it appeared differently, was still a novice. He didn't shy away from taking risks despite this fact. He wasn't afraid of taking hits and there were moments he seemed unconcerned with whether he lived or died. Today such an attitude had brought him to this point, risking everything just to win a measly match. Vegeta supposed he was one to talk, but the difference was that he couldn't be so easily killed.

Malachi had awakened. Vegeta knew this from the voices that were now coming from the room.

"Seriously, Malachi, how do you feel?"

He didn't answer immediately. "I've never felt so lethargic before—not even after an entire day of performances. But I'm alive. You must have some miracle worker."

"How can you be so nonchalant about this? You realize you almost died."

"Oh, don't be so dramatic. Give human medicine some credit. There would have been a surgery maybe a transfusion. It would have taken longer to recover, but I doubt I would have died."

"Well, I'm glad you can take comfort from that," Bra said in frustrated tones. "How about not getting hurt at all? Is it so important to win that you _have_ to put your life on the line just to do it? You think I would have felt differently about you if you decided to just throw the fight? Are you _that_ concerned about your reputation? What the hell was going through your mind?"

"I wasn't planning on doing all that, alright? But ask yourself this: Why do you think Trunks even bothered with signing up and not telling anybody about it? He said it himself that he wasn't interested. He thought he could have himself a little laugh, show me up for whatever reason. Guess that entire plan backfired, that ass—

"Malachi," Bra interrupted heatedly, "That's my brother you're referring to and I will not have you bad mouthing him."

There was another pause before Malachi spoke again. "Apologies. But tell your brother that if he wanted to fight me, he can just ask me directly."

"You can tell him that yourself," Bra said haughtily, "And you'd be an idiot for doing it. You saw what happened today. Did you like the feeling of crushed bones and organs? Well there's lots more where that came from. I don't know what's gotten into you. Why, Malachi, why?" Frustration was clearly in her tone now.

"I know what happened out there today," Malachi said with a sigh. "I wasn't ready. There's still a few techniques I haven't perfected. And that Instant Transmission…I need to become stronger."

"Do you hear yourself right now? You can barely even move."

"This is temporary."

"And you don't think eventually it could be otherwise? You're only human."

"I know perfectly well who and what I am, thank you."

Vegeta sensed Trunks' presence in the home along with Terri. It was obvious that he must have flown there as he'd arrived before Bulma. He wondered curiously as to why he'd bothered showing up, but he remained in his current position as Trunks made his way towards the medical ward.

"Dad," Trunks said when he was a reasonable distance away, "Is he alright?"

Vegeta finally opened his eyes and looked towards him. He looked none the worse for wear, his clothing virtually untouched despite having just competed in a tournament. "You were rusty out there," Vegeta said instead of answering his question.

Trunks sighed exasperatedly, "That's not what I came here for."

"It's become clear to me that you've been neglecting your training. If you were to spar against me, it would be a complete waste of my time."

"We're really on this again."

"You asked me if I would be willing to help you in the business and as of right now, you've only proven me right," Vegeta continued unperturbed.

"So you're going to stand there and berate me like this? I guess I shouldn't be surprised with someone like you"

"And what exactly do you want me to say instead? You know what you did out there. If calling you out on things you need to improve on is 'berating', then that's your issue."

Trunks stood there silently for a moment with a mask of full irritation. "We're not all cut out for a life full of training. I have other obligations, other interests."

Vegeta appeared to pay him no more mind as he returned to his previous position. As far as he was concerned, the conversation was over. Soon Trunks entered the room interrupting the other two's argument.

"Trunks," Bra said with a smile in her tone. "Are you okay—

"I'm fine," Trunks said before she could finish, "Really. I just came to apologize to you Malachi for unnecessary roughness. I had no idea you'd end up like this."

"You're not serious, right?" Malachi scoffed.

"Malachi!" Bra said warningly.

"You came here to apologize—for that? Did you come to insult me further?"

"No—" Trunks began curtly, but was interrupted.

"Do you always make it a habit to visit your opponents after battle's end and _apologize_ for hurting them?"

Trunks didn't even bother responding verbally to this.

"Then don't do it now."

"You really are a piece of work, you know that?" Trunks said. "You barely survived that encounter and you think continuing to piss me off is your best course of action?"

"Says the person who felt the need to ascend just so they could defeat a measly human."

"Will you two quit it already? It's bad enough you even fought at all. Malachi, you're in no condition to be getting worked up over silly stuff. And Trunks, I appreciate the gesture. I would like it even more if you could avoid killing off my boyfriend accidentally or otherwise."

"Well," Trunks said after a tense moment of silence. "The princess has spoken. I'll do my best to keep that in mind."

"You're right," Malachi said after another moment. "I shouldn't be wasting my energy on petty things."

Vegeta imagined a trading of hostile looks between Trunks and Malachi as his wording could be taken for many things.

"I've done what I came here for—Bra, I wish you well."

He knew Trunks would be exiting again so Vegeta made himself scarce as he did not want to have further harsh words with his son. He made his way to the main part of the house where Terri happened to be and he found her pacing about the space. She was quite startled to look up and see Vegeta there. How odd that she had decided to keep her distance from where Trunks had gone. As far as he knew, she didn't have anything against Malachi or Bra.

"Oh, Vegeta, didn't see you there," Terri said with one of her quirky crooked smiles.

"You seem like you have a lot on your mind."

"I do," Terri admitted hesitantly, "But it would likely do more harm than good to discuss it with you."

Vegeta turned when he felt Trunks' presence nearby.

"You ready to go," Trunks asked plainly to Terri.

Her eyebrows furrowed a little and then she nodded.

"We'll talk later," Trunks said to Vegeta affording him only a glance.

"Right," Vegeta said back though unconvinced.

He didn't like how Trunks took up her hand and walked almost too fast for her to keep up. Something was obviously going on between those two, but Vegeta had learned his lesson when it came to other's relationships—stay out of it.

* * *

 **AN:** I was just randomly thinking, but maybe people may not know how to pronounce Malachi's name right. It's not used all that often. Guess I'll attempt to phonetically spell it: Mal - luh - kai. And the "kai" is like King Kai.

 **WildHeart44:** Maybe it hasn't come in conversation. Maybe Yamcha has finally moved on (which would be nice 'cus I personally don't want him to be forever alone). Or the author has totally forgotten about that drama and neglected to even mention it (yeah, sorry.) The whole ask about Vegeta's past thing-don't worry, it'll be more important much later on.


	14. Absentee Lovers

**It took Malachi a few days to recover and then it became hard to get a hold of him—Bra as well.** Vegeta instinctively knew when it was better to just leave them to themselves as he did not want to know what exactly they were doing. It was always easier to ignore someone when he wasn't thinking about doing just that thing—the eternal paradox as far as he was concerned. It was far more difficult with Bra than Trunks. At times like these, he would focus on Bulma so as to distract himself. Though he did not always want to know every single intimate detail of Bulma's daily life—it was the lesser of two evils.

Trunks never contacted him either and every time he tried to call him, it was sent to voicemail. It became painfully obvious to Vegeta that he did not want to talk and he was not about to force the issue. What would be the point of barging into his home or office? It would only serve to piss him off even more. Besides, he was far too old for him to make him do anything.

After spending half the day training, he decided to spend the rest of it flying about. He'd read quite a few books in the recent past and didn't feel like going back to it so soon. As usual, he was never headed in a particular direction. It was simply something to do, something to distract himself so that his mind wouldn't wander so much. There were a lot of things to think on and at the same time there was nothing.

That was when his phone began to ring. He must have been getting used to answering it because he did not hesitate this time, nevermind the fact that the number was unknown. He recognized Terri's voice immediately.

"Hello? Vegeta is that you? I can hardly hear you over…I guess the wind."

"Give me a minute," Vegeta ordered as he realized he needed to find a place to land or else hold an entire conversation with someone while in midair.

It was surprising just how much of the planet was simply miles and miles of water. He found a small island within his sights and shot off in that direction. It was little more than a cliff upon a spit of land, but it would serve his purposes. He sat down on the edge of the cliff—he supposed there were odder places to answer phone calls. At the very least it was a nice view of the ocean.

"Alright," he said after another moment. "What did you want?" He didn't even bother asking how she had his number as it seemed obvious to him.

"Geez, that was some intense breeze," Terri commented with a laugh.

He didn't know how to respond to this so he gave none. There was a momentary pause in dialogue and Vegeta wondered if he should simply hang up before she spoke again.

"I think it's easier to speak to you in person than over a phone—I can't see your expression. Oh well. I hope you don't mind me calling; I had no one else to talk to. I don't exactly hang out with a lot of people; I spend most of my time inside writing. That's probably why he was so surprised when I wasn't in my 'usual' place that time he called me at the party. Are you…are you still listening? I have a habit of talking people's ears off."

"I'm listening," Vegeta replied wearily.

He had no idea why he was humoring her, but it was likely because he was curious and because he could think of nothing else to do at the moment.

"I told you how I first met your son—at a book signing. And from there we just kept seeing each other. Things were normal at first—the dating, the whole I-support-you, you-support-me thing that people do when they care about each other. Then he would become busy and I wouldn't see him for months. He does this thing where it's as if he cuts himself off from me. I didn't really notice at first because sometimes I do get lost in my writing from time to time, but when I get those horrible writing blocks—that's when it becomes obvious. He just doesn't answer my calls. There are times when I feel extremely alone as if I wasn't even in a relationship with him at all.

"I've called it quits quite a few times with him. Then he'd get all upset about it even though we hadn't seen each other in months. Then he'd come over and apologize, I would believe him, and we start the whole cycle over again. Lately now, he's become well…a bit too possessive. He seems to always want to know where I am or what I'm doing. I had to talk him down from beating a guy who just wanted my autograph on a book. I wish we could reach some happy medium.

"The thing is—I think he's been under a lot of stress lately, all of it stemming from his work. Sometimes he tells me things about it. Apparently, he suspects deep systemic corruption within the corporation and it's been difficult getting it under control without drawing unwanted attention. He wants to do things internally—that's what he says every time I say just call the police. I'm not exactly fluid in business speak, but every time he talks about work, there's always something bad happening. I just don't know what to do. I don't know how I can help."

"I'll talk to him," Vegeta said after a pause.

"But how would that help? I'm not even sure if he's even in the mood for that kind of thing."

"I might consider helping him if it would ease his mind—though I doubt I'd be much help. I'm sure Bulma doesn't know about this or she'd already be having a nervous breakdown."

"Oh, you don't know how happy I am to hear you say that. Well, the first part. Maybe everything else would simply work itself out, right?"

"I have no idea," Vegeta replied unwilling to confirm or deny her reasoning.

"Yeah, I guess you're right. Sorry for bothering you like this, but it was nice to get it off my chest."

Vegeta struggled with figuring out something nice to say back, but he found himself coming up blank as he was completely out of his comfort zone. Terri's laugh broke the silence.

"And I'm honored that you took the time to listen to me. Have a good day, Vegeta."

"Likewise," he replied at which she giggled again.

He was a bit confused with her laughter, but he didn't mention it as he finally ended the call. That was perhaps the longest he'd been on a phone in one sitting—it hadn't been the most terrible experience in his life though that wasn't saying much. He didn't like the news Terri had given him about what sounded like a strange relationship between her and his son. Long periods of absence followed by intense possessiveness. Vegeta didn't know what to make of it nor did he even begin to think he could personally do anything about it. He could, however, support his son when it came to his work if it would give him peace of mind.

With a sigh, he launched himself into the sky again.

* * *

 **Trunks' office was the largest one in that skyscraper of a building.** He'd never actually stepped foot in it. When Bulma had worked in that position, she'd done so at the headquarters, but it had since been moved as the corporation grew to a staggering size. It was far more of a headache living so close to one's work than it was worth. The line between work and free time became quite blurry and intrusive.

Vegeta glided up to the very top of the building where he sensed Trunks' presence. Most windows to office buildings were not ones that could be opened, but he knew Capsule Corp buildings to be built a little differently purely out of convenience. It could be slid open at the tap of a button and the right code—Vegeta happened to know this code.

When he was levitating right outside his office, he quickly hid himself when he noticed Trunks in a private meeting with what appeared to be an employee. The glass was too thick for Vegeta to hear through, but judging from the scene, it did not seem like a pleasant occasion. The suited man seemed fidgety and agitated and Trunks' arms were crossed in irritation.

Vegeta was glad that he'd caught the tail end of the meeting as he was only forced to wait ten minutes before it was safe to make his presence known. The shocked expression on Trunks' face was priceless. He quickly allowed the other inside.

"Never thought I'd catch you dead here," Trunks said as he had the window close once again.

"You should thank your girlfriend who all but begged me to come see you."

"Is that right?" Trunks asked sitting down in his cushy chair, "Well, I'm sorry she's been such a bother—"

"She wasn't," Vegeta said simply as he approached the large desk. "It was very…enlightening."

"What did she say?" Trunks questioned piquing his curiosity.

"I don't feel like recounting the details," Vegeta answered. He was leaning back against the sturdy table beside Trunks. "You said you needed help so here I am," he said changing the subject.

"Just like that, huh?" Trunks said with the beginnings of a grin. "And you didn't think letting me know you were coming would have made a difference?"

"As if you would have answered me if I called," Vegeta retorted.

"Geez, not you too. Has no one heard of voicemail? You guys call as if I have nothing better to do. I can't even remember to take lunch let alone trying to keep up with all the missed phone calls—and there are quite a bit of them. Just look at this," Trunks said as he took out his cell; a device that was far more high-tech than the one he used.

The screen was large enough for Vegeta to easily see as he swiped over to the list of missed calls. Just in the last hour, there were pages of numbers. It began to put things in perspective for Vegeta.

"You're quite popular," Vegeta commented.

"Sales calls most of them, then some business calls. HR can take care of most of those so I simply ignore them until they get the picture. But idiots will be idiots." He sighed and then pocketed the device.

"What exactly do you need me to help you with?" Vegeta asked after a moment.

"There are problems everywhere in the company and the board of directors move like molasses—a headache in itself. But there's one department in particular that gives me the most issues—the accounting department. Every single time we've been audited financially there's always been red flags and we've lost quite a bit of money each time because of it. For such a big corporation, it doesn't exactly amount to much, but it begins to add up. _Something_ is going on there. Corrupt individuals or even some organized group within cannot be simply identified. I don't know how compromised we've become, but the managers in place seem ineffective. They assure me everything is going well only for me to find out the opposite."

"Hmph, sounds like you need to just get rid of everyone and find some better people."

"That would be too heavy handed—that's not how I do things. Besides, it would be unfair to those who aren't involved. It couldn't be everyone."

"Then what else is there to do?" Vegeta asked.

Trunks sat back in his chair. "Mom always said you were a good judge of character. What if I were to introduce you to them individually? Would you be able to decide one way or the other whether they should be let go or not?"

"You would trust my instincts on a matter that requires facts?" Vegeta said not liking his idea at all.

"If you haven't noticed, facts are in short supply and it would take time I don't have to attain them. What do you say?"

"I don't like it," Vegeta said shaking his head. "But I will help you."

"Given the situation, I have little choice but to depend on your instincts. You see, I've tried this before. I tried to get rid of the ones that were causing the problem but now history repeats itself. There are CPAs and internal auditors that have been with the company well before I was ever born. If I am to get rid of such people, I need a bit more confidence that I'm doing the right thing."

Vegeta wasn't quite sure what he was getting himself into, but he decided to simply try his best to understand. At the very least, it wouldn't hurt. In the end, Trunks would be making the final decision and he was confident enough in his son to make the best one.

"Like I said, before," Trunks said, "It takes a while for things to get done around here and I'd rather not step on people's toes. But don't worry, I'll manufacture some excuse to have them come into my office and when I do, you'll be here as well."

"I see," Vegeta said after a moment. "Some time in the near future then."

"Hopefully, but realistically speaking—in a few months."

Vegeta straightened from his leaning position against the table and moved towards the window. He'd spoken with Trunks without it turning into argument. He considered it a job well done and decided to leave while he was still ahead.

"Tell Terri to leave voicemails if she so desperately wants to get in contact with me," Trunks said seemingly out of the blue.

Though Vegeta had not directly told him that that was what she'd been complaining about to him, Trunks must have easily figured it out on his own.

"Tell her that yourself," Vegeta said opening the window now.

"Hm, right…" Vegeta heard the other say almost absently just as he began speaking on the phone with someone immediately after.

Vegeta took off into the air and flew once again in no particular direction. He was only glad to be out in the open air. He still didn't quite understand Trunks' relationship with Terri. He saw two different personalities that would work well together if only they could actually _be_ together. Both seemed more than capable of spending disturbingly long periods of time away from each other, lost in their own world. If a book could take up to a few days to simply read, Vegeta could only imagine how long it could take to write it from scratch. Trunks oversaw the entirety of the Capsule Corporation and he had to make sure everything continued to run smoothly and there were many facets to the business that Vegeta was sure he was not aware of.

Vegeta knew firsthand, however, that a lack of communication could ruin any relationship. If there was going to be any longevity, things would have to change. He'd done as Terri had suggested and that was all he was willing to do. Anything further would wound up being too intrusive.

* * *

 **AN:** Just a quick update for you guys before the long weekend where I'll have so much more time to spend on this. Right before things begin to pick up again in the next chapter. Hope you enjoyed.

 **Wildheart44:** Joseph Joestar? I had to google that and then I realized he's a character from that show my boyfriend keeps telling me to watch. I'll get to it eventually. Looks like your question about Terri was answered! I think I mentioned it briefly in a previous chapter, but Yamcha's already with another woman. Warning people at the appropriate time? Now where would be the fun in that? Lol.

 **WineIXI:** You'll see me today! My favorite pastime is keeping my readers in suspense. But on a serious note, I did put quite a bit of foreshadowing in there so it won't be too much of a surprise what might happen next...or maybe it will.

 **Jay:** I'll think about it, on that transformation comment. Goku will not be showing up in this story. I kinda suck at writing him as well. Although, I said that in the last DBZ fic I wrote and I wound up doing it anyway. I pretty much have an idea of how this one's going to end and it doesn't include Goku at this point.


	15. Unwanted Arrival

**Vegeta found himself traversing West City in no particular rush.** Food was once again getting low at the Capsule Corp residence and he'd taken it upon himself to do the much-needed grocery shopping. It was a routine occurrence, only this time Bunny had not had the chance to nag him to death about it. Not only did he want to avoid that, but it was an excuse to do something somewhat productive. By now, he knew what sort of items to get and from where, so having a physical list was unnecessary.

He was taking his time, enjoying the fair weather. It had been raining all last week and having clear skies and a bright sun was much appreciated. He hadn't even made it to the first store. In fact, he hadn't made it very far down the street before he felt a sudden spike in energy enough to make him pause. No normal human could attain such a level so quickly. A moment later, he watched as the glass window a few feet ahead of him was shattered completely; a body flew threw it with considerable force.

Vegeta went from caution to alarm when he saw a gargantuan of a man cry out angrily and run out of the now demolished store front. His power level was all wrong. Something seemed odd about it. Vegeta simply positioned himself in front of the rampaging man with a quickened step to stop him in his tracks. He knew he was in no danger. The strange man towered over him, but that did not stop Vegeta from looking him in the eyes.

What he saw there was pure, unadulterated anger. There was no reasoning with this man, Vegeta realized. The riled man was already lunging at him, but he was easily evaded. The man had no hope of actually landing a hit on the Saiyan. The entire circumstances felt so arbitrary that Vegeta could hardly reconcile it with reality, but the strange energy remained. Vegeta didn't finish the man off immediately as he tried to make sense of things. A red lightning sparked around the man and his emotions seemed one-tracked.

When Vegeta decided he learned all he could, he knocked the man out with a single punch. That was when he heard the sirens of the police. Though the attacking man had been quite large before, his physique lessened in size and definition right before his eyes. Whatever had been afflicting the man was now over.

"Took you long enough," Vegeta said under his breath.

Krillen was among the policemen that showed up at the scene and already he was getting questioning looks from the bald man. After all, it wasn't often that Vegeta was ever around when the cops showed up.

"What happened?" Krillen asked though not in an accusing tone.

He must have noticed the shattered glass along with the destruction inside the store. The other police were already talking to the witnesses.

"I'm not entirely sure. Did you feel the sudden spike in energy?" Vegeta asked the other.

"I did—I came right over when I did, but I was half-way across the city."

"It was something not of this world," Vegeta said back.

"Do you think...?"

"Prepare yourself," Vegeta said before the other could finish.

Then it happened again—another spike of energy. Vegeta took off immediately. He sensed Krillen following a few moments later. The spike was still somewhere in the city and when they arrived, the same scene seemed to be playing out. It was a man still, but when Vegeta could get a better look, he noticed a distinct lack of anger. Though the human was still rampaging, it was far more mindless and less targeted at other people. The same red electricity sparked around him.

Vegeta approached the hulking man still levitating a bit from the ground. Vegeta stood in his way and he simply moved on to a nearby mailbox, demolishing it completely. It was as if he was in his own little world. Vegeta subdued him quickly with a single punch to the guts. Just like before, the man's size diminished and the strange energy disappeared.

"Geez! What are we even fighting? Have you ever seen that before?" Krillen asked.

"Something is infecting them, probably even controlling them, but I don't see a clear intent. Maybe something is changing them from afar or inserting itself inside like a parasite—we've seen things like that before. None of them pleasant. If this keeps up…"

Krillen felt it at the same time as Vegeta and they both looked towards the new direction.

"You stay here and see if anything else happens to the man. Question him if you can," Vegeta said.

He flew off without waiting for a reply. It wasn't likely that he'd have an objection anyway. Just now, the situation was beginning to feel a bit frustrating. They didn't know what they were dealing with and Vegeta felt as if he was chasing the wind.

When he arrived at the scene, much the same was occurring. Another man, more demolishing of public property. For the humans, it must have been quite terrifying. Though he wasn't overly concerned, he knew things would be much easier if he could get the situation under control sooner rather than later. Questions would be asked and he did not feel like answering them. He tried something different this time.

"Hey!" Vegeta yelled out to the now overly muscular man who towered over him.

There seemed to be some understanding in his eyes when he turned to Vegeta.

"What are you?" Vegeta asked further. The man now stared at him dumbly. "Ugh, speak already!" Vegeta snapped.

Then just like that, the moment of clarity was lost and the man went back to what he was doing. Either way, the man had to be stopped quickly. Vegeta made quick work of this man, but this time he studied what happened afterwards much closer. The power left him just like before and seemingly vanished into thin air. Then he saw it. A distortion in midair; an easily missable thing that flowed out of the now unconscious man. It was otherwise invisible.

"I see you," Vegeta said aloud, "You can't hide from me."

A split second later, he dished out a quick energy blast, but the entity easily evaded. Vegeta tried several more times and it all ended the same. From the outside looking in, Vegeta simply looked like he was throwing power blasts at arbitrary locations. The entity sped off in a different direction and Vegeta instinctively followed. He saved his power blasts for now so as not to destroy the city so wantonly.

He was not following a ki signature, but a subtle ripple in the environment. He had to depend entirely on his eyes. Vegeta realized that he could easily lose all traces of the entity so he kept his eyes trained ahead. The chase took him all over the city and then out of it as he was led into the surrounding forest. Good—away from the weakling humans. However, the forest afforded the entity more cover and it was becoming incredibly difficult to make out its form as the light dimmed.

"Damn it," Vegeta spat under his breath.

Earth was finally facing some new threat and he was already screwing it up. It had been over an hour now and Vegeta had no intentions of dragging this out any longer. He cautiously unleashed a minute, but fast energy blast in the entity's direction and he almost lost sight of it completely as the dirt was kicked up in the process after it struck the ground. Surely it would stop sometime.

Vegeta followed it through the entirety of the forest only to end up in the nearby suburbs which sat apart from the main center of commerce in the city. It was quiet here and not many humans about. That was when he realized something as he passed familiar looking mansions. This was the same neighborhood where Malachi resided. Was he at home? With a quick energy search of the area, he knew that he was, along with Bra nearby. Egged on by this information, Vegeta chanced another energy blast to deter the entity. He needed to send it elsewhere. It hadn't tried to possess anyone else thus far, but Vegeta didn't want to take any chances.

Well placed energy blasts led the entity speeding in a different direction, but for whatever reason, it would double back as if it knew what he was trying to do.

"Why don't you stand and fight!" Vegeta yelled out.

Still no recognizable response from the invisible creature. Vegeta was getting desperate as it edged closer and closer to Malachi's residence despite the increasing amount of power blasts. He was in danger of losing sight of it if he dished out too much at once. Vegeta had no reason to assume that anything bad would happen once it got to Malachi's place and perhaps he was simply making it worse by trying to redirect its path. Finally, he simply followed the creature towards that place.

He sensed Bra inside the house, but Malachi was outside in the back possibly training himself or trying to create some other interesting attack. Whichever was the case, he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Vegeta silently wished the other was inside, the creature hadn't bothered going inside a building since he was following him so diligently, but it was far too late for wishful thinking.

They approached Malachi's position and Vegeta began having a sinking feeling. Somehow he knew, even if it didn't fully make sense to him at that moment, that Malachi had been targeted. Somewhere along the line of him chasing the creature, it had decided on another host. Vegeta didn't hold back this time as he quickly summoned a substantial amount of his energy and sent it flying towards the creature. He sent four of them all in different directions to completely block its route of escape.

This all happened only a few yards from Malachi who by now knew, at least, that Vegeta was there. He was already making a run for it when he saw what looked like Vegeta attacking him with full powered blasts. It seemed he almost forgot he could fly. He made it a safe distance away quickly, Vegeta noted, but the kicked-up earth and grass completely obscured his sight and he knew he'd lost the entity for good.

Malachi was already looking at him questioningly. He wasn't upset, it seemed. Vegeta wasn't exactly in the mood for explaining himself, but he approached the other anyhow. Malachi touched ground and Vegeta followed in suit.

"Are you alright?" Vegeta asked before the other could say a word.

"I'm fine, but what—

"It's a long story," Vegeta interrupted, "But the threat seems to have passed."

He was looking around now looking for any traces of the entity.

"Was that some kind of test? Always be alert or something?"

"You should always be that," Vegeta said gruffly as he turned. Everything seemed to be fine, but his gut was telling him otherwise. His eyes still surveyed the area. He felt as if he was being watched. Malachi seemed to be picking up on his mood.

"Vegeta, what is it?" Malachi said in quieter tones.

"Go inside," Vegeta ordered. He hadn't even bothered turning to look at the other as his eyes kept searching.

Malachi sighed exasperatedly. "Fine," he said rightly deciding to give in rather than to further engage the other in conversation.

It was as if he had a sixth sense alerting him of when it happened. Vegeta turned and a wave of nausea hit him so hard that he could hardly keep down his food. That coupled with a massive and sudden increase in energy level sent him reeling. A bright scarlet fire of energy had erupted around Malachi—it hadn't presented itself in brief sparks like the others. Vegeta ascended to his Super Saiyan form so that he wouldn't be unevenly matched.

When the solid wall of energy began to dissipate from around Malachi, Vegeta was finally able to get a better look at him. His dark hair was more than a little ruffled, but that was to be expected when in the throes of so much electrified energy. He wasn't sure what he expected, but certainly not the lack of emotion in his eyes. He didn't appear agitated or as if he was on the verge of destroying things just to destroy. There was some intelligence there, but he couldn't quite read him.

"Malachi," Vegeta said seeing if the other might respond. "What do you intend to do now?"

Not surprisingly, Vegeta received no response, but in that moment Malachi became the aggressor. Vegeta hadn't expected the other to be so fast—he never expected any human to be that fast, but within a split-second Malachi was only a few inches away and dished out quite a few punches before Vegeta reacted and ended up tossing him back harmlessly. Malachi recovered quickly and stood there for a moment looking at him with an utter lack of purpose. It was odd, to say the least. For a moment, he thought it was over until Malachi charged at him again this time holding nothing back as it became a head-on, hand-to-hand combat. The volley kept up for a few minutes, but Vegeta could see the other's inexperience and exploited it—he faked an incoming punch causing the other to prematurely block leaving him completely open to attack. Vegeta struck him so hard that it most likely would have caused unconsciousness.

The impact of Malachi's touchdown to the ground put a dent into the earth as he slid into it and dust was kicked up. It was there in that moment as he waited for the dust to clear that a sudden realization came over him. The strange feeling that emanated from Malachi's energy amplified as it was revealed the subtle effect of energy being slowly pulled away from him and then dissipating as if it hadn't been there at all. In theory, if the other could last long enough, he would eventually gain the upper hand. Judging by the rate at which the energy drain was happening, however, it would take hours for that sort of thing.

Malachi had still not gone down as a sudden barrage of power blasts came through the clearing dust. Vegeta deflected the few that would hit him and sent a few of his own towards where Malachi's had come from.

"Dad, what the hell are you doing?!" Bra cried. She'd just stepped out probably in response to all the ruckus they were making.

Vegeta was momentarily distracted by her voice. "Go back inside—right now!"

Malachi was closest to her and it was as if time slowed when he advanced on her. His fist struck her across the face before Vegeta could get there to stop him. Vegeta had him in a choke hold that he could not easily escape from. Bra had tears in her eyes and was crawling backwards fearfully, blood dripped from her mouth—it was almost too much for him to handle. She wasn't looking at him, but at Malachi.

"Wh-what's wrong with him?"

"He's not himself. Something's gotten into him."

Vegeta felt Malachi squirming in his firm grasp. With a little more strength, he'd go unconscious. Then he realized as he saw that look in her eyes that he couldn't do it while she could see. He flew upwards into the sky.

"Don't hurt him!" she cried out.

But the deed had been done. He held a limp Malachi in one of his arms. Vegeta couldn't allow him to stay conscious as he grew more and more agitated in his grasp. He could only think of one place where he could contain Malachi somewhat. A place that put some distance from the general populace. He felt Bra following behind him and he did not attempt to stop her.

He flew higher and higher until the air became noticeably thinner. The Lookout showed up in the horizon and Vegeta made his way to it with Bra tailing him. Dende should be well aware of the events that had transpired. At the very least, he wouldn't have to explain himself to him. Perhaps he already had a solution. Perhaps he could give him more information on the matter.

Dende was already standing outside when he touched down. His expression was unreadable, but his warning came back to mind. Surely this was not what the Namekian had in mind before. There was no way he could have known what happen today. They exchanged looks, but Dende made no comment on that matter.

"I have a place where we can keep him. Follow me," Dende said shortly without pretense.

Vegeta simply followed the Namekian further into the compound. He'd never gone further than the Hyperbolic Time Chamber, but obviously there had to be other quarters for Dende to live there. Eventually, Dende stopped before a closed white door. When he opened it, Vegeta noted how heavy the door looked. The metal enforced door moved smoothly on its hinges. Inside, the room was completely empty. No one seemed to have ever occupied it before. Vegeta stepped into the room and placed Malachi sitting up against the far wall. He made no movements at all, but Vegeta knew that wouldn't be the case in a few minutes.

"Is this really going to hold him?" Vegeta asked.

"It will buy us some time and he won't be at large. He is weakened now as well," Dende replied.

Seeing no point in staying in the room, he exited it and closed the door.

"Is there anything more you can tell me?" Vegeta asked, "What are we up against?"

Dende shook his head. "I've seen similar species, but nothing quite like this and certainly not one that would stick with a host once they've been incapacitated."

"Isn't there anything we can do?" Bra asked. Her voice seemed to have returned to her, a little confidence as well.

"Perhaps your presence might be enough to remind him of who he is," Dende said.

"I doubt it," she said looking down. She let one of her thumbs slide down her jawline and winced.

It was a bit of a long shot, but Bulma might have some ideas. It wouldn't be the first time he'd come to her for help and if he wasn't mistaken, she was working on something that involved energy. She was a scientist with the ability to create things that were near unimaginable. She might not know how to "fix" Malachi, but she probably had ways to subdue him for a longer period of time. Vegeta suspected that keeping him in a weakened state would also weaken the foreign entity's control over him. With not much time left before Malachi awakened again, he pulled out his cellphone and called Bulma.

"This must be some kind of emergency," Bulma said, "I was starting to think you didn't know how to use a cellphone."

"And I was starting to think you were too busy to answer phone calls," Vegeta grumbled. "You've been working on something for a while now—how would you like some real-world application?"

"Well, it's not that far along in the development process—just tell me what's going on. You're going to have to start from the beginning. Then I'll see what I can do."

So he started from the beginning. When it was Bulma asking for a recap, he didn't mind it at all. He didn't embellish the details—it didn't take him long before a sense of urgency entered her tone as she asked him more and more questions.

"Listen, there will be time for all the questions in the world, but we should see to Malachi first. I was hoping you'd have a better method than me knocking him out over and over again. Bra is here as well—I don't think she wants to see that."

"I see," Bulma said with a sigh, "I only have a prototype and it was something that's been on the backburner. We've been working on a way to efficiently store large amounts of energy. And when I say large amounts, I'm talking about a system that could power an entire city on its own for years cheaply and would require little energy to function. It would be _the_ biggest breakthrough in science since Einstein's Laws of Relativity, even that Time Machine my future-self made. Well, when I say prototype, I mean more of a side project—handcuffs that can siphon and store energy from any surface it touches. I'm at the office now. Meet me there and take me to the house. I'll explain everything in route."

"I'll be there in a matter of seconds—be ready."

When he ended the call, he looked over at Bra who was still being consoled by Dende. She probably didn't want to leave and he couldn't blame her. Vegeta took off to the skies.

* * *

 **The handcuffs could not store power limitlessly.** Once they reached a certain amount of energy, the cuffs would have to be discharged to be of any use again. The amount of time this had to happen depended on how quickly Malachi regained energy. Bulma had set it to just the right setting for their purposes. The handcuffs were to maintain its possessor at 3% energy.

Unfortunately, by the time he'd gotten back there to place them on him, he was wide awake and it was the same situation all over again. Whatever this entity was, it was tenacious. He'd closed the door behind him when he entered the room. Vegeta wasted no time pinning him to the wall with his forearm by his neck. He clicked one handcuff on and then forced the other arm into it in the same breath. The device quickly took effect as he backed up from Malachi.

He seemed to lose all fight in him and was forced to sit down probably from the sudden loss in energy. His head leaned back against the wall and his eyes seemed to stare at nothing.

"Saiyan…" he hissed at the other.

Vegeta was looking at him now—it was the first words the creature had spoken. He was beginning to think it couldn't speak at all. Malachi had never hissed at someone before as far as Vegeta knew and it seemed strange and uncharacteristic coming from him.

"Why bother with such…contraptions," he continued raspily.

"All the better to annoy you with," Vegeta answered with crossed arms.

"You could kill me…if you wanted. Isn't that what Saiyans do?"

Vegeta simply ignored this and continued in his line of questioning. "I don't know why you choose to trap yourself in this one body. It is as you say, creature, I could kill you with a snap of my finger, but there is another way." He studied the other's eyes, but they conveyed no emotions. He had no idea if he'd drawn any interest with his proposal. "You could leave this planet peacefully and I will think no more of this incident."

"I have chosen well…you would not kill this body. A stroke of luck. I can wait. I can always wait."

Vegeta frowned at this. "What do you want?"

"Destruction," he said with the first hint of a grin.

"To what end," Vegeta asked.

He simply stared ahead having no intentions of saying anything back. Vegeta squatted down to his level.

"Let me speak to Malachi," Vegeta ordered.

"No…I will not let that happen."

Vegeta snatched up his shirt and violently pulled him a little closer to him—his frustration was getting the better of him. "Listen, you smug little bastard, if you don't leave willingly, I will get rid of you by some other means. You're not the first to pull this kind of thing—there is always a way."

"The longer I stay…the less host remains. Once he dies, I will be Malachi," he said unperturbed by Vegeta's threat. "That 'way' disappears, the more time passes. I can wait."

Vegeta thrust the other back to the wall and stood up. "Then wait, but you won't get far. If he dies, then you won't be far behind him."

"'He' dies. Body remains intact. Alive. Would you kill someone with his visage?"

"That would make little difference," Vegeta said as he turned towards the door. "If you kill Malachi, then you are up shit creek. I will treat you like any other enemy and I will not hesitate. I suggest you think long and hard about the options you really have. I will be back. You don't want to irritate me any further."

With that, he opened the door and closed it behind him though with a bit too much force as the door slammed into the frame and shook the building it was attached to. He took a deep breath at this as Bra approached him.

"Well?" she asked though it sounded more like a demand.

He shook his head no and then turned from her pleading eyes. "Tomorrow, we will see. In the meantime, perhaps your mother can think of something."

"I'll stay here then," she said as her eyes returned to the closed door.

Vegeta wanted to say something against this, but decided that it would be wise not to. "If you intend to enter that room, make sure you stay out of his reach. Remember, he is much weaker than you—don't let him intimidate you."

Bra gave the other a firm nod, reassuring him at least a little. She was a novice to combat, but those handcuffs made it difficult for the captive to even stand. He didn't have anything to worry about yet he would worry anyway. She was waiting for him to leave, he knew. He wanted to be there to always keep watch over her, but whatever she planned to say to him was between him and her.

By then, it was getting into the night. He decided he would go home, but he remained hypersensitive to even the slightest fluctuations of her ki.

* * *

 **Bulma did not have any convenient contraptions to help them with their problem.** She had no idea where to begin, she had told him. If they knew some conditions that needed to be in place to drive out the entity, she could throw something together quickly, but they were flying blind. The lack of energy had done nothing. For whatever reason, the creature seemed adamant about staying put. Vegeta had not found out the reason and he suspected the creature hid it purposefully. He'd poured over the creature's words to him all night and nothing stood out to him.

Why did it desire destruction? Did it get some enjoyment out of it? Was he on some sort of mission? Or was he simply wired that way? Perhaps that didn't matter in the end. Vegeta fully intended on getting rid of the thing one way or another. Something like that shouldn't be allowed to exist. It would simply take over some other person's body and begin the entire process over again.

Bulma had wanted to run tests on him to see if she could detect something physical within the body. Perhaps if she could figure out what it was composed of, she could work backwards from there. She was no medical doctor, but she was willing to give it a try. By the next day, it was the only half-way decent idea that they'd come up with.

Vegeta, who hadn't gotten much sleep yesterday, flew to the Lookout bright and early. Throughout the night, Bra's ki signature had been normal so he did not fear for her safety as he made his way to the room. Bra was in a room nearby resting and Dende was on the other side of the building probably doing the same. He opened the door cautiously and looked inside to the dimly lit room.

Malachi's position had changed. He sat against the left corner of the room instead of against the wall in the center. His head leaned against the left wall and his eyes were closed.

"Malachi," Vegeta said gruffly.

He startled the other with the sound of his voice as he flinched at the sound of it. He had some trouble waking as he pressed his hands against his eyes.

"Mmm, Vegeta?" he groaned, "Finally, a familiar face." His voice was scratchy, but nothing like it had been yesterday.

"Malachi, is that you?" Vegeta asked, hesitant on believing what he was seeing. He was quickly trying to think of some way he could confirm this. It wasn't as if he had known Malachi long to ask questions with little known answers.

Malachi slowly removed his hands from his eyes and squinted in the dim light at the other. "As far as I know…Unless I'm still dreaming. Is this a dream?"

"No—how could you mistake this for a dream?" Vegeta said with irritation. His confusion was not making things any better.

"You, have a point," Malachi said looking about the place and then taking a deep breath. "Hard to mistake fantasy with reality, but this moment is just surreal enough for that kind of thing."

"Convince me that you are who you say you are," Vegeta ordered.

"Ah, well…" he said caught off guard by this. "It must be true then. That thing or whatever it is—I can still feel it. All I remember is bits and pieces, but I think I understand."

Vegeta wasn't altogether certain that this was Malachi, but it had been made abundantly clear to him yesterday when it definitely was not him.

"Is that all?" Vegeta replied quickly.

"You want something that only I would know…" Malachi said thoughtfully. "But you would have to know it too or be able to find out."

Vegeta merely stood there watching the other not giving him any clues. He watched as he lowered his head into his open palms.

"Geez, I don't know," Malachi responded clearly agitated and his voice slightly muffled. "Give me a moment to catch my bearings. What the hell are these handcuffs?" Malachi asked as he'd likely just realized they were there. "And why do I feel so damn weak?" His eyes had returned to Vegeta.

Vegeta was silent for a long moment until he no longer felt like being under Malachi's accusing gaze. "Those handcuffs are for your own good unless you like rampaging wantonly through the streets. I'm sure your fans would love to see that."

"Rampaging?" Malachi asked clearly finding the idea ridiculous.

"Didn't you say you remembered what happened?"

"I remember fighting you," Malachi answered. "And it felt like a real fight. I felt…much more powerful. It was like nothing I ever felt before and it was so sudden. Then…" But Malachi left that thought unfinished.

"So you remember our very brief fight and nothing more."

"I got it," Malachi said suddenly almost interrupting the other. "You know that mac and cheese dish I made for you."

"What about it?" Vegeta asked, realizing at that moment that he'd completely neglected breakfast that day.

"You didn't have to tell me—I _knew_ you liked it a lot. So just in case you ever came back over again and I had the time, I planned on making it again. One of the cheeses I used was Muenster and I only used it for that particular dish. I have it in my refrigerator—two blocks of it."

"I see," Vegeta said back thoughtfully.

"Well? Aren't you going to check?" Malachi asked after a moment.

"I believe you."

"Good," he said with relief, "because I was getting tired of trying to figure out how to convince you."

"I realized it was foolhardy on my part to ask you for something like that. That thing is inside of you and there's no reason to believe that it doesn't already have access to your memories. Whether I was speaking to you or that thing, nothing will have changed anyway. The handcuffs would have remained."

Malachi's eyes widened at this. "I never thought of that. Maybe I've already been…compromised…"

Vegeta noticed the other's hands shaking now as he looked down at them in wonderment.

"But it's important that you remain calm."

"Yes," Malachi agreed as he slowly looked back up to him. "Is there anything that can be done?"

"Nothing is concrete at this point, but Bulma would like to run some tests on you and see if there's some physical anomaly that can be detected."

Malachi was looking down again. "Run as many tests as you need to. Is there anything else that I can do?"

"Remain here and don't cause any trouble. I'll return when Bulma is ready for you," Vegeta replied turning.

"Vegeta," Malachi said just as he was pushing the door open. This caused the Saiyan to pause. "When I fought you, for that brief moment, I felt invincible. That must be what it feels like for you at all times." Vegeta glanced back at the man now. "I envy you," Malachi finished in darker tones.

A very cold feeling crept down his spine, but he'd afforded the other little more than a glance and he had no intentions of lingering. He closed the door behind him as he finally stepped out into the fresh air.

Bra was there almost immediately inquiring about Malachi's condition. He would remain objective even as his thoughts traveled back to Dende's warning. Malachi had done nothing wrong and it wasn't entirely strange for a weaker being such as a human to find some enjoyment in that level of power. It was something that Krillin and the rest of the human Z-fighters had likely strived for yet never attained. Certainly they would feel the same. He'd readily agreed to his help and seemed completely onboard with getting rid of the entity. Not once had he questioned the validity of Vegeta's claims and took his words at face value.

No, there was nothing to worry about. The handcuffs made him as vulnerable as a newborn kitten and after he'd explained to him why he needed to wear them, Malachi did not seem to have any objections about its use. If anything, Malachi was taking the bad news surprisingly well…

"He seems to be more like himself," Vegeta told Bra truthfully.

Bra could barely hold back her smile. "You don't know how happy I am to hear you say that. Yesterday—did you see his eyes? So emotionless. Maybe there's a chance Mom can do something."

"Maybe," Vegeta replied with lukewarm enthusiasm so as not to get her hopes up to high.

"And if he's, you know, conscious, maybe he could just get rid of that thing on his own. If anyone could do something like that, it's him."

"Yeah," Vegeta said only partially agreeing with her, "but he would need to truly be against its presence being there."

Bra looked at him a little confused. "Why wouldn't he be?"

Vegeta decided not to answer as he saw that look on her face. She wouldn't understand. In fact, he was surprised such words had come out of his mouth to begin with. "I'll go see if I can help Bulma." Bra nodded to him. "And be careful when you're around him—we don't know what that creature is capable of."

"I will, Dad. I'm tougher than I look, remember?"

Vegeta left it at that and took his leave. He didn't know what that creature was capable of and in the same breath he didn't know Malachi well enough to know what he was capable of either.

* * *

 **AN:** The plot thickens.


	16. Maintaining a Modicum of Mental Mastery

When Bra first entered the white room that Malachi occupied after her father had him handcuffed, she knew she wasn't looking at the Malachi she had come to know and love. She called his name and he looked up at her with emotionless eyes. It was enough to make her eyes begin to water, but she held in her tears.

"I know you're somewhere in there," she said quietly, "Even if it seems…" She didn't have the heart to finish the sentence.

She was standing just a few inches away from him and she was trying to muster up the courage to move closer still. His gaze was unsettling.

"You're Bra," he stated matter-of-factly to the hesitating woman. His voice sounded much too rough.

"Yes," Bra confirmed to the other. "How…do you know?" she asked. Only seconds later, she realized she didn't want to know the answer.

"I know everything about him. Images in the mind."

"Then you know that it's pointless to keep on inhabiting him. My father could stop you instantly," Bra said with a frown.

"Yet I still live."

She didn't like the thought of some strange entity inside of Malachi who also had access to his most private thoughts. That was far more intimate knowledge than even Bra knew. Though they'd known each other for some time, in some ways, Malachi was not always completely open with her. Sometimes it was difficult to tell where he began and where his stage persona ended, but it was only sometimes.

"I'm talking to Malachi now," Bra said taking a deep breath. "No matter what happens, I won't ever leave your side." His eyes continued to stare. She moved closer still to him and squatted down so that she could reach her arm out to his shoulder. "I am with you every step of the way. I don't know if you can hear me, but that is a promise I plan to keep, alright?"

Though she felt awkward after his nonresponse, she finally went through on the thing she'd wanted to do from the start. She embraced him fully and pressed him close to her. It was like hugging a life-sized doll. He had no reaction whatsoever and soon she was forced to separate. She gazed back at him searching endlessly for something, anything to tell her that her antics were not futile.

"Leave me, human," the creature said in that same awful voice.

She sat there for a while longer as her eyes searched the other's, but nothing happened. There was no recognition, no brief moment of clarity. Finally, she stood up as her disappointment threatened to become something far worse.

Though her first encounter had gone terribly, the next one proved to be far more successful. Her father had just stepped out and given her the good news about Malachi's state. She was eager to see _him_ again after spending a restless night wondering if she'd lost him forever. This time when he looked up at her, she knew that it was Malachi, yet he seemed exhausted and his skin pallid. She'd never seen him look so diminished before and it broke her heart.

"Bra…" he said breaking the growing silence between them.

"How are you feeling?" she asked as her eyes moved down to the silver handcuffs around his wrists.

"Like I was ran over by an eighteen-wheeler multiple times."

"Geez, that bad?"

"That was the best analogy I could come up with at the moment," he said with a brief grin.

She decided to step a little closer to him as she'd cautiously stood close to the door. Then she sat down beside him against the wall.

"Are you sure that's a good idea, sitting so close to me?" he asked. His eyes were downcast.

"I'll be fine," Bra reassured him. "Now look at me,"—Malachi obeyed—"How much do you remember?"

"Bits and pieces. Enough to understand the gist of what happened. But there's something that's been bothering me." His gaze seemed to take on more intensity. "Did I really attack you?"

She shook her head. "No. 'It', that 'thing' attacked me, not you."

His eyes widened with disbelief. "I'm sorry I—" but Bra did not allow him to speak any further as she placed an index finger on his open mouth. He quieted immediately.

"I don't ever want you to apologize for that. Do you hear me? Never. Or else you'll really upset me."

"But—"

"No, buts," she said with a frown.

He looked away from her again and then sighed. "The image remains. Those were my hands that were raised against you. I'm surprised your father hasn't seen fit to repay the favor."

"My father knows better than that. He was never angry with you. We have bigger problems," Bra reminded him.

She was hoping to get through to him before his guilty conscience got the better of him. He was not one to succumb to such things, but the circumstances were uniquely different. His exhausted countenance told her everything. Left alone in this room with only his own thoughts and likely the thoughts of the foreign entity to comfort him was a recipe for disaster. She knew she had to be there just like she knew he'd do for her were the roles switched.

"Is it still—"

"It's still there," Malachi interrupted her as if he could read her mind. They often interrupted one another in conversation and they'd grown used to it. "I can feel it."

"Do you know why you can, you know…"

Malachi nodded at her indicating he understood what she was going to ask so she ceased her attempts at putting her thoughts to words. "I haven't the slightest clue. It's simply dormant. I'd be more concerned if it weren't for these handcuffs—I assume they limit my energy."

"They do," she nodded.

"The moment 'it' can regain energy…" Malachi began.

"Is the moment it will take over again," Bra finished.

She sat back against the wall for a moment in silence as she decided on how she would voice her next thoughts. Malachi was slightly hunched over and his eyes had returned to the ground or perhaps his handcuffs. She imagined his thoughts darkening as he began to ponder over the predicament and realizing that there was no real way out of it. They were at a stalemate. She saw hidden fear behind his mask of feigned calmness when she called out to him again. She had a plan.

"Have you ever tried to talk to it?" Bra asked.

"Talk? I don't even think it knows how to speak."

"It spoke with your voice. I mean, it sounded a bit strange, but it was learning."

"Your point?" Malachi asked with a raised eyebrow.

"If we can't fight it, then talk to it. Maybe there's some misunderstanding. Maybe there's some…" she paused when she saw a look that indicated that he wasn't buying it. "You have to try something," she said determinedly.

"Okay," he said attempting to warm up to the idea, "even if I wanted to try talking to it, how would I go about doing that?"

"Maybe meditation. Maybe dreaming."

"Meditation—like when you were trying to teach me how to use ki?" he asked.

"Yes, but deeper than that. Like imagining you were inside of yourself."

"That sounds easier said than done."

"I've heard of it before though so it's possible," Bra said with the beginnings of a smile. "You might have more luck than me or my father. Since it's a part of you maybe it'll listen to you more."

"Flawless logic," Malachi said matching her expression.

"Shut-up," she said back in jest. "It's better than nothing."

"Well, I—there's a problem…"

"It's hard for you to meditate right now?"

"Exactly," he said. He tried to lift his arm up probably to touch his forehead, but he was too weak to do so and his poor arm returned to his lap. "I'm so confused right now and this all white room is really starting to get to me…"

"Then use me."

"What?" he asked, but then immediately he understood.

His eyes were trained on her as she positioned herself to a sitting position in front of him. "Nothing else matters right now. I will always be here with you."

She paid close attention to his heartbeat which began to ease off eventually as it pumped slower and slower. Hearing such a minute sound had not been formerly taught to her, but it came to her naturally when she was motivated. She found from the moment she'd met Malachi in person that her senses had felt oddly heightened. She wanted to feel his warmth. She wanted to always be filled with his scent. She wanted to know when he was excited or sad. If he sneezed, she wanted to know if he was catching a cold. She wanted to feel every single part of him at all times. Those ties had only become stronger with time. Though Malachi could not match such precise senses in return, she knew that he felt something similar.

His eyes had closed now as she knew they would. His breathing had lessened significantly and he began to slump forward. She made no sounds as she watched this though she grew concerned with his near lack of breathing. This was different from before when she'd attempted to teach him how to use his ki. His breathing was too shallow to be asleep and he felt too far away now to be in control of his own faculties.

She realized then that she didn't know how long he should stay in such a state, but she assumed he would come back out of it in his own time. Having nothing better to do, she closed her eyes and focused on Malachi. It was nice simply to be in his presence again without being afraid. She wanted to reach out and touch him, but she knew it would be counterproductive. Time rolled by slowly as boredom began to take her. He was motionless the entire time. She couldn't tell if anything was happening. At some point, she looked up in alarm when he seemed to stop breathing altogether then just like that he would take a big gulp of air and he'd be breathing once again. It was nerve-wracking to say the least. This happened three more times in the span of twenty minutes and each time she began to panic until she decided she couldn't handle it anymore. Whether he was ready or not, she was determined to "wake" him again.

She reached out to him and shook him. Then called his name. He didn't "wake" immediately as she thought he would. His brow crinkled as if he was finding it difficult to open his eyes. She breathed a sigh of relief when he finally accomplished this and was looking to her once again.

"That was some meditation," Bra said when she felt he could understand.

"You were here the whole time?" he asked in surprise.

"Well…yeah. Didn't I say I would be?"

"I didn't think you meant it literally. That must have been pretty boring."

"It's a good thing I was here—it's been thirty minutes and it looked like you were having trouble breathing."

"Was I?" he asked perplexed.

She nodded affirmatively.

"Regardless," he said brushing her concerns aside, "I spoke to him…or more like at him."

"So it's a he?" Bra asked.

"It just feels that way. He was showing me many, many images in succession and I think I was beginning to understand. I don't think he was finished. I must have been interrupted…"

"That was me," Bra said, "I kind of brought you back. The whole breathing thing, remember?"

"I see," he said after a moment. "Thank you. I doubt he would let me die though."

"Somehow that doesn't set my mind at ease. What did you learn?"

Malachi sat back then as he became lost in thought. "He was from some planet far from here. He used to live with his own kind, other small, translucent creatures. This is where it gets confusing though. For whatever reason, his planet was destroyed."

"Was there someone named Frieza?" Bra asked.

"What?" he asked in utter confusion.

"I mean, was there some white and purple lizard man with horns?"

He continued to give her the same look and then shook his head no. "Nothing like that. It was destroyed, but not by some outside force. At least, I don't think. It looked like something internal. Then he was thrown out to space where he floated and existed for quite some time, a very, very long time before ever meeting another live being. He arrived at another planet and searched desperately for someone alive. And then…"

"Things stopped making sense again," Bra asked as he paused for a bit.

"Yeah," he said slowly, "It looks like he simply possessed the creature that he did find, but…I think there might be something more to that. Maybe it was his first? Maybe he had some specific purpose? I don't know. After that, the images just stopped—I guess that was you waking me."

"A perfect place to stop," Bra said sardonically, "But I don't think it would be safe for you to stay that way for too long."

"You're probably right," he conceded. "I didn't think anything would come of this in the first place, but we may be getting somewhere."

"You really think so?" Bra asked. "You were just shown a few things. Was it really trying to answer your questions?"

"I don't know. Maybe he couldn't. Maybe he thought this information was more pertinent. I don't want to jump to conclusions."

Now it was Bra's turn to be thoughtful. "It's the most it's spoken or showed to anyone. If you gain some rapport with it, maybe you could ask it to leave and resolve everything peacefully."

"I will certainly try."

They grew quiet for a moment, but neither became uncomfortable as they contemplated what had taken place.

"How do you feel now?" Bra said returning to her position beside him against the wall.

"Just as weak as I was before. These handcuffs…," he said despondently, "are necessary, but the feeling of my energy being sapped never goes away. Sorry if I'm not as fun to be around at the moment."

"I doubt anyone would be in a good mood in your shoes. And that sounds terrible. I can't even imagine how that feels."

"I never want you to be able to. Bra, I hope you don't plan on spending the whole day in here."

"I do," she said singularly and she gazed at him determinedly daring him to dissuade her.

"You shouldn't. Really, you shouldn't. You don't have to be prisoner here."

"You don't either," she said back.

"Bra…" he said wearily. "You know I can't—"

"I know what my father wants, but you're no threat to anyone right now so staying in this room is a bit redundant, don't you think?"

"I agree with your father first of all. But I also don't feel like moving in the least."

"You haven't eaten," Bra said as the idea just struck her.

She knew instantly that the other did not like her train of thought as he sighed wearily.

"Well, I'm not going to let you starve to death."

She felt Dende's presence moving closer to the room. She was prepared as he opened the door, but clearly Malachi wasn't as his body jolted in surprise when the door moved. Bra was sure he knew how to sense ki by now. He'd demonstrated that he could on multiple occasions. His lack of alertness was yet another side effect of his weariness. Dende came in with a hot plate and Bra could smell the freshly cooked scrambled eggs on it.

"Good morning, Dende," Bra said with a smile looking up at the green man.

"Good morning," he said back with a smile, "To both of you. I thought you'd need some nourishment, Malachi. It's been some time, I assume, since you last ate."

"It has," Malachi admitted.

Dende wasted no time setting the plate on Malachi's lap. A fork had been placed in it as well. Bra had to admit that it did look quite appetizing.

"I'm sorry you've had to be in here for so long. I think it would be good if you also got some fresh air," Dende said further.

"There's no need to feel sorry," Malachi said as he looked down to the plate now. "It probably could have been far worse. Thank you for the food," he finished graciously.

"You're very welcome."

"You made it yourself?" Malachi asked.

"No," Dende said with a laugh, "I don't know the first thing about cooking, but Yajirobe was kind enough to lend me some of his breakfast."

"Ah," Malachi said thoughtfully. "I should thank him later then."

Dende left presently, but he left the door to the room open. For this, Bra was grateful as a strong breeze flowed into the enclosed space. She waited for Malachi to begin on the food, but after a while Bra knew something was wrong with his seemingly lack of interest.

"Are you scared of it?" Bra asked with a brief laugh.

"No, it's just…" His cheeks reddened a bit and Bra became intrigued. "I can barely move my hands…"

"Ooooh," Bra said as realization came over her. "You should have told me sooner," she said with a playful grin.

He averted his gaze as his cheeks burned brighter. She took the fork into her hand and picked up a modest amount of egg on the fork. She waited patiently for the other to acknowledge her again. There was no need to embarrass him further by demanding his attention. He knew perfectly well what would happen next. He had a stroke of stubbornness in him as well as pride, but usually his logical mind won out in the end. The same thing occurred here as he grudgingly accepted her help. When she judged him ready, she lifted the fork to his mouth and he easily took it in. Despite herself, she smiled at this as his cheeks still burned brightly red. It would be a long and arduous ordeal. She could tell he wanted it over quickly, but she refused to go too much faster or pack on the amount of food on each fork—she knew his eating habits well. They'd only made it halfway through the plate before Malachi called it quits.

"Have you lost your appetite?" Bra asked in a half concerned, half teasing tone.

"Perhaps," he replied.

She knew the real reason, but she decided not to push him. Besides, he most likely wouldn't like her next suggestion: "Do you want to step outside and get some different scenery?"

"…I'm fine," he said after a moment, "I can feel the breeze."

"You know I'm perfectly capable of lifting you without breaking a sweat, right?"

"I know…"

"And I've done it before. Maybe behind closed doors, but I've done it and you were okay with it. So how about it? Do you want that piggy back ride?"

"Fine," Malachi said much to her delight.

She put the plate aside and positioned herself so that he could easily climb. Even this was a struggle for Malachi as he lifted himself forward and wrapped his arms around her. His closeness was electrifying and when she felt his breath on her skin, she very nearly melted away in bliss. Did he know the effect he had on her? She had no idea and she did not ever plan to tell him else he might use it to his advantage. Malachi was slightly heavier than a feather. She walked outside with ease. The sun was high and the weather was perfect.

"You've gained some weight since last time I did this," she said.

"Courtesy of your father's training. I trust it won't be an issue for you."

Bra laughed at this. "No."

She floated into the air and then began flying forth at moderate speed. When she first met him, she hadn't realized just how often he danced. She knew that it always played a prominent role in his performances, but she had no idea how many hours he put into practicing just to get everything perfect. He was a departure from the sort of guy she was interested in. He was quite slender, but he had a dancer's body. He was deceptively strong, his muscles lean and subtle. But things had changed since her father had begun training him. She hadn't even known when it began. At some point, Vegeta must have changed his mind about Malachi. Either way, she knew eventually. She'd never thought of Malachi as weak, but now she was no longer afraid of breaking him in two like a twig. There was no doubt about it—he was much more powerful now.

"Do you really intend to continue training?" Bra asked.

"You already know the answer to that—we've discussed this already. But it's like you said before, we have bigger problems."

"I know…" she said with a sigh.

"I'm glad you dragged me outside. It was getting stuffy in there."

"You're welcome," she said with a grin.

She flew aimlessly for a while taking it slow. They spoke little, but that did not bother Bra. At times when they were together, they wouldn't have much to say and drew comfort simply from being around one another. They had said all they could about the situation and all Bra could do was hope for the best. She was sure her mother was busy trying to come up with a solution along with her father.

At the very least, all was calm now. No one was getting hurt. Malachi was singlehandedly harboring an entity that was capable of great destruction. For whatever reason, it had decided to stay with him thereby ceasing any further havoc on the population. Bra suspected that they had caught a lucky break and the story that she had heard from Malachi—there was much they didn't understand. She hoped for a peaceful outcome and that soon Malachi would not have to wear those awful handcuffs.

She wasn't out there very long before she realized that the other was falling asleep. It came as no surprise. He appeared exhausted since she'd seen him that day and his overall condition had not improved by much not even after breakfast. She made her way back to the Lookout and slipped back into the small room. By the time she sat him back down again, he was sound asleep. She ran a hand through his hair once—she noticed it was just becoming curly again—and kissed him lightly on the forehead. As she walked out, she pondered if she should close the door and then closed it when she realized it would be safer that way. That didn't make it any easier.

For the time being, she stepped out into the open air again and laid down on her back to take in the sky. Though she wasn't always taken with such low-energy activities, it seemed like just what the doctor ordered with her mind going a mile a minute.

It was the afternoon when she heard her father touch down a few yards from her. She opened her eyes and sat up as he walked towards her.

"Your mother is ready for him," Vegeta said to her unspoken question.

* * *

 **AN:** I know I said DBS won't be part of this story...but I really like the idea of Tien opening up a dojo. I like imagining Tien as a martial arts teacher as opposed to just training by himself all the time. He's finally doing something interesting. So I'm just going to add that in this story even though it supposedly happened years ago. DBZ is known for plot holes and a lack of attention to details...I'll just be continuing in that tradition. Also it's super convenient for the purposes of this story I started writing years before DBS was even a thing and GT was still considered canon.

 **WineIXI:** You and me both.

 **SierraLarson:** I don't know if you've been watching Super, but I was inspired by a Gohan/Saiyaman arc that included humans being taken over by a parasitic alien that enhanced whatever evil they had and converted it into fighting power. Loosely based off of that anyway.

 **WildHeart44:** Thanks! Trunks and Terri need something 'cus whatever they're doing ain't working. Yeah, you got me, I've been setting him up for this. Lol.


	17. Through Science

**The whirring noises of all the machines in the lab active and waiting were like music to Bulma's ears as she waited patiently for her husband's return.** A bed had been set up in her lab along with other equipment she needed to run scans on his entire body.

Just when she was finally beginning to miss her wacky adventures from days long passed, her life seemed to have taken a turn for the strange. As soon as Vegeta described to her what was happening, her mind immediately thought of Baby. They had not fared so well back then. In fact, without Goku's help she doubt she'd be around now reminiscing. Vegeta had been taken and easily controlled by the Tuffle along with most of Earth's populace. After Krillin had visited them later that day, she was reassured that whatever this thing was that currently resided in Malachi had not taken control of the other three men that had rampaged through West City. It gave her a little peace of mind, but it did not explain the creature's motives.

Bulma was glad to have something useful to help Malachi. Now she was given a far more impossible task of figuring out how to expel the entity. When Vegeta mentioned the fact that the creature had claimed that its presence in a host intensified with time, she knew she had to act quickly. She'd spent most of the night preparing for her examination.

She looked up when Vegeta entered, holding Malachi in his arms along with Bra. Vegeta placed the man on the prepared bed instinctively. He was asleep, Bulma noticed, and perhaps it was for the best. He appeared under the weather with his poor coloring and glistening skin. The handcuffs seemed to be having unforeseen side effects which worried her. She'd not fully tested the device and certainly not on a living person.

Bra stood beside the bed, though keeping a respectable distance for her to do her work. Vegeta predictably idled further away with arms crossed—the picture of calm and collected. She knew he was anything but or else he wouldn't be there at all. His presence, however, eased her mind.

She took up the first scanner and began in earnest. It would be a slow process as there was no specific place that needed to be scanned. In small sections, she passed the device over him waiting for the device to tell her when to move on to the next area.

"You know," Bulma began as she was nearly finished with the first scanner, "Sometimes it's hard to wrap my head around that this is Malachi." Bra looked up at her. "I don't even particularly like the genre he makes music for, but even I can appreciate his music. You see him on television all the time—everyone knows who he is, but I didn't expect to ever actually meet him. And I remember when you first told me you were dating him," Bulma said thinking back.

"You didn't even believe me at first," Bra said with the beginnings of a smile.

"All the way up to the moment when you first brought him over to the house and then I was just speechless. And I've seen a lot of things in my time, none of it prepared me for that. Good thing Vegeta was there to break the tension." She glanced over at Vegeta who had nothing to add to their conversation.

"Yeah," Bra said with a chuckle, "Demanding to know 'who the hell' he was and why I'd brought him over so arbitrarily."

"Sorry, I hadn't told him anything—I _really_ hadn't believed you at the time." Bulma set down the first scanner and then started with a new one.

"Sometimes," Bra said after a long moment, "I don't believe it either. When I'm with him and we're just hanging out, I don't think of him as 'Malachi', but just the guy that I'm dating. But when he gets into his element or when we're in the public's eye—it starts to feel surreal."

"I can only imagine," Bulma said understandably.

"If we hadn't met the way we did, I doubt any of it would be real."

"Yeah, you told me he was wearing a disguise?" Bulma asked. She hadn't heard the full story, but she was a bit curious about the whole thing. Usually, she could care less how her daughter met the guys she did, but this was different.

"He'd dyed his hair completely blond and he looked like a convincing one—he went the whole nine yards and had his eyebrows done as well. I still felt there was something familiar about him, but not enough to have me jump to any real conclusions. I was out with my friends, Pan and Marron. We were just out to have some fun not particularly looking for guys. I wanted some decent food for the evening and so we decided on that restaurant. We took up a booth that was within sights of the bar and we ordered food and all the normal stuff. Pan kept pointing out the blond guy at the bar drinking by himself or at least, he didn't seem to be with anyone, though he was clearly talking with everyone nearby.

"Leave it up to Pan to always locate all the cute guys within a five yards radius. I'd just broken up with my last boyfriend and the other two were already dating so she kept pestering me 'cus I was the odd girl out. I told her to quit it—that I was going to take it easy for a while, but I couldn't resist seeing what all the fuss was about. I swear, at the same exact moment I looked over to him, he was looking over at me like some kind of sixth sense. And he locked eyes with me—it wasn't like he tried to look away and pretend it hadn't happened. Then he actually stood up and made his way over to me.

"I wasn't by myself. Most guys don't approach like that when it's a group. He was a bit tipsy, I remember, but he was no less coherent. And," Bulma noticed the other begin blushing a bit, "I wasn't used to any of it. He was so confident and not at all bothered by the fact that my friends were there. He got along well with everyone which wasn't always the case with my other dates.

"It was karaoke night and we always went up to sing whenever we could, but Malachi feigned shyness as the reason he couldn't join us. I knew that was a boldfaced lie, but I didn't think much of it until later."

"When did you realize it was Malachi," Bulma asked now as she finished up with yet another device.

"I never realized it—he just told me over the phone after we exchanged numbers before we ever went out on an actual date. And I didn't believe him. I thought to myself that I'd messed up once again and I was talking to a crazy guy. In fact, it took me a long time to actually believe him. Even when he showed up with his hair looking normal, I just thought he was an incredibly convincing impersonator—you know Malachi has a lot of those, they have a documentary about it. I kept dating him too—I mean, I didn't tell anyone about the fact that he thought he was actually Malachi—but I still enjoyed his company. And at some point after he stopped trying to convince me, I realized it had to be true. There was no way anyone could keep up such an act for so long. Not to mention it would have been far too expensive. When he brought me into the studio and introduced me to known producers, I knew there was only so elaborate a scheme could become."

Bulma was quite amused with the story and giggled a bit as Bra told it. She'd finally begun on the last and final scanning device and waited for it to be finished.

"Do you think you'll be able to find anything?" Bra asked as Bulma took out a small chip from one of the devices.

"I don't know, but that's what science is all about—the unknown and discovering its properties."

Bra could only nod at the other.

"You should get some rest. It looks like you haven't really slept in days," Bulma said to her worrying daughter. She'd never known Bra to worry about anything. That she was doing so now was quite telling.

Bra shook her head.

"Rest," Bulma ordered the other. "I won't be done for hours and I don't expect you to be here for all that time."

"But, Mom," Bra started to complain, but Bulma shut her down quickly.

"If you really want to help him, you need to remain strong yourself and I don't think he'd want to see you like this—worried and tired."

Bulma watched her look down at Malachi's resting form. Vegeta had placed him flatly on his back so that Bulma could easily scan him and his arms were close together with the handcuffs around his wrists. He didn't exactly look comfortable, but he was at least resting and Bulma was sure this wasn't lost on her daughter.

"Okay," Bra said finally giving in, "But you have to get me up if anything happens."

Bulma grinned at the other briefly. She didn't feel it was necessary to let her know that she would do no such thing. "Will do," she said instead as she turned to the giant monitor that was just now giving her the preliminary readings.

Bulma grabbed a chair as soon as Bra took her exit and began to look through the results of the first scan.

"I kind of feel bad keeping him like this, in a basement no less," Bulma said after a while. "If the media ever caught wind of this—it would be a maelstrom of propaganda and speculation."

"It's necessary," Vegeta reminded her, "And if I catch even a whiff of the so-called media, I will get rid of them promptly."

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that," Bulma said with a short laugh.

Vegeta made himself more comfortable as well eventually as he took up a nearby seat. Bulma never asked him to leave. She knew they were dealing with a potential threat to the very planet and that her work here today would determine Malachi's eventual fate. She became caught up in the readings and hours seemed to slip by easily.

Her concentration was immediately broken when she heard movement beside her and she noticed some more movement from Vegeta a few yards away. She stood up and saw Malachi showing classic signs of having a nightmare. His grimacing, furrowed eyebrows, and strangled grunts was all the details she needed to know. She put up a calming hand to Vegeta when she realized what was happening. She decided to wake him as she always did when she saw someone going through something like that. It wasn't a difficult task as she called his name and shook him gently.

His eyes were bloodshot upon opening them and he was obviously disoriented.

"You're at the Brief's residence in my lab. Vegeta brought you here so that I could have a closer look at you."

His head had turned to look at her as she spoke and she saw some recognition in his eyes. "I remember…" he said though his voice sounded thin and weak. "Did you find anything?" He was almost whispering.

Bulma didn't have anything useful to tell him, but she'd only just begun despite it being hours since she started perusing over the information. She was determined to figure it all out. His condition, however, troubled her.

"Not yet," Bulma replied truthfully, "But I'm nowhere near done. Just give me a few more hours." She glanced over at the silver bands around his wrist and noticed that the device had almost reached its limits. "How are you feeling?" she asked in concerned tones.

"Extremely tired," he said after a moment's hesitation.

"That's normal, unfortunately," Bulma said. "Your body is trying to compensate for the lack of energy."

"That makes sense," he said slowly.

"I don't intend to drag this out any longer than it needs to. I will do all I can to help you. Malachi, I'm sorry for—"

"Please don't apologize," Malachi managed to say.

He could hardly hold her gaze or keep his eyes open. It wasn't long before he drifted back into slumber. The small light on the bands had just then turned red signifying that it had reached capacity.

"Vegeta," Bulma said in quiet tones knowing the other had exceptional hearing. "I'm going to take off the handcuffs and discharge them."

Vegeta was at her side wordlessly as she carefully unlocked the bands with the proper code. The entire event was painless but they were both holding their breaths as she slipped them off and quickly placed it into the discharging device on the counter beside her.

"How long?" Vegeta asked.

"Two hours at the most. We should be fine, right?"

"As far as I know, he shouldn't be able to recover enough energy in that time to cause any real trouble."

Bulma was hoping Malachi would simply stay asleep for the entire span of time. With a sigh, she sat down again and continued with her previous endeavor. There was simply so much information to absorb in such a short time. It became clear to her that no human should be made to wear the draining handcuffs for more than a day. His body could not truly keep up with the unnatural removal of energy and he would likely continue to wake for shorter and shorter intervals until he simply fell into a coma. Yet even this did not drive out the entity. Though Vegeta would not like this, for Malachi's health, they would need to increase the energy he could keep to at least 10 percent.

All was quiet once again as she'd sat down totally engaged with the readings now. She had no idea how much time had passed when she was momentarily caught off guard by a quick motion beside her; one of Malachi's arms had flinched involuntarily. He moaned a little in his sleep, but that was all. A false alarm much to everyone's relief. It had been less than two hours as the cuffs were still discharging. She almost missed putting the cuffs back on at all were Vegeta not there to remind her. She'd again become engaged in the reading.

"Remember, Vegeta, 10 percent this time. We don't want to put too much strain on the body," Bulma said as Vegeta fastened them once again.

More hours slipped by in utter silence and no interruption and she was finally on the third scanner results. Yet the closer she got to finishing, the more she began to worry that she would find nothing—she hadn't thus far. And then, as if the cosmos sensed her despair, she found something out of place in the readings, the ones which had analyzed the properties of his blood. There were two sets of DNA one almost as prominent as the other.

"Pathetic humans and their silly contraptions. Only stalling the inevitable," Malachi said startling her from her discovery.

His voice was surprisingly clear and not at all as weak as it had been before. She looked over at him instinctively and she found him gazing at her. Vegeta had described the creature as having eyes lacking in emotion, but she did not see that here. There was something truly menacing in his gaze. She stood and backed up as he took this time to easily sit up in the bed. Bulma didn't feel quite so threatened since Vegeta was already poised to fend him off from behind—she wondered if the creature knew of his precarious situation as he seemed to exclusively look at her.

"I only know of one race which could successfully extract my presence from the host, but they are long since destroyed just as this world will be soon enough."

"Why are you doing this?" Bulma demanded. "How can destroying this world help you in any way?"

He seemed to speak clearly not as awkwardly as Vegeta had described earlier. Bulma did not like the implications.

"It is simply what I do. That is my purpose. That is what I decided it would be all those years ago."

"You decided?" Bulma asked slowly. "What would make you do that?"

"You'd be surprised how many people have asked me that questions. How many times have I been placed into this very position? People demand answers—always so curious right before they are completely annihilated. I tire of humoring others as it is a waste of time." She watched the other look down at the cuffs and then back to her. His expression had turned cold. "Allow me to move your research along. My presence has spread throughout the body physically and spiritually and there is no way to stop its propagation or destroy it. It is a process that cannot be stopped not even by me. Eventually, our beings will fuse as it always does with any living organism."

"You have no idea whether your cells can be destroyed or not—how could you, if you have no idea what I'm capable of?" Bulma challenged.

Malachi only gave her the smallest of grins. "It's taken you quite some time to discover even the topical information about me and you use primitive devices to maintain my energy at a certain level. I've seen far cleverer ways to subdue me. I may not know specifically what you are capable of doing, but I know that you cannot stop me."

"Answer me this, creature," Vegeta said breaking his silence. Malachi's gaze turned to him unsurprised by his presence despite not physically acknowledging him until then. "Why have you chosen this particular host? I could kill you with a flick of my wrist and you would be right back where you started."

"If you had any sense at all, you would destroy me now, but you will not. As I said before, a stroke of luck—something that rarely comes my way. You saw my previous attempts did you not? They're bodies distort and their intelligence suffers. We did not align properly. I sensed him from afar as if calling out to me—he possessed a darkness that rivaled my own. We would align. As a human, he could not resist me—they are a species susceptible to such things in a way that Saiyans are not. A Saiyan would not be impossible but I prefer the path of least resistance and I prefer one with a kindred spirit. Look how you hesitate when you know this is the only chance you'll ever have at destroying me. Once the process is done, once we have fully and perfectly fused you won't stand a chance. I know that won't stop you from trying and I look forward to our inevitable confrontation."

Their conversation was interrupted when Bra came back downstairs awoken on her own from her rest. Bulma heard the familiar sounds of her footsteps as she entered the lab.

"Malachi?" Bra said seeing him awake immediately upon entrance, but Vegeta held out an arm to stop her. She was predictably annoyed with his actions.

"He's not in his right mind," Vegeta explained quickly.

Malachi's gaze had turned to her now. "Did you want to tell me something?" he asked in a tone that was surprisingly affectionate.

"It's really you, isn't it?" Bra asked as she looked from Bulma's concerned face to Vegeta's.

"Yes," Malachi confirmed, "For now anyway."

Bulma shared a confused look with Vegeta wondering if they could take his words as facts. There'd been nothing to indicate that there'd been a shift in personality—no struggle, no moment of confusion—it was seamless. And if it was true that this could happen so easily, she wondered just how "fused" the creature and Malachi had become. She didn't want to believe that, she simply couldn't. The entity seemed more than capable of emulating emotions perhaps this was simply a trick on his part.

"Did you find out more about him?" Bra asked. She was still barred from moving any closer to him

"I know everything about him—as if I'd known him my entire life."

Bra's eyes widened at this, "Then that's good, right? You can reason with him. You could ask him—"

"No," Malachi said shaking his head. "I know for certain now that there is no way I could change his mind."

"But will you at least try?" Bra asked as frustration began to color her tone.

"I have tried," he replied.

"Well then, try again," Bra practically ordered.

"I _have_ tried," Malachi repeated, "Over and over again"

"So are you just going to give up?" Bra asked now in confrontational tones.

"It is no use."

"Damn it, Malachi—am I talking to a brick wall?!" Bra said back in raised tones.

"I'm _telling_ you it's no use! You can't talk to someone who doesn't listen. He's too set in his ways. He is some kind of ancient being whose mind cannot be changed by a mere human like me, okay?"

"Have you already forgotten what you told me before—

"I haven't forgotten," he interrupted her.

"Dad, please, he's still too weak to hurt anyone," Bra said looking down at Vegeta's outstretched arm. Bulma exchanged looks with Vegeta again hoping he read her right—Vegeta grudgingly allowed her to pass.

Bulma stepped further away from Malachi not in fear but to gain access to a remote that controlled the cuffs. She was sure Vegeta was watching her now and understood what she was planning to do. Bra was safe now so long as she could easily decrease his power back to the usual 3 percent.

"How do you expect to keep your promise if you allow that thing to have its way with you?" Bra asked forcefully now.

"You should know by now," Malachi said as his eyes looked upward in what was obviously defeat. "It's impossible now—I'm sorry. I'm truly sorry."

In her anger, she grabbed the nape of his dark shirt and gave him a crisp slap across the face and then another and then another before Vegeta thought to pull her off him. By then, one of her sharp nails had already left a scratch across his cheek deep enough to draw blood which now crawled down his face.

His sorrowful expression changed before Bulma's eyes into something far more sinister—that was when she quickly used the device to decrease his power. He grunted angrily as fell back down onto the bed in sudden weakness.

"No!" Bra shouted in concern. She was struggling against Vegeta's strong hold, but there was no way she would prevail.

Despite the drop in energy, however, Malachi was able to lift himself up again though with some struggle much to Bulma's surprise. That sinister look, however, was not present. His eyes suggested a deep exhaustion and a look of defeat that likely did little to ease Bra's concern. It nearly broke Bulma's heart—she took no pleasure in harming Malachi, but it had to be done.

"Bra," Malachi said, but his voice sounded weak again almost at a whisper. "There is only one way you can stop him. He could not leave me even if he wanted to. His host must die—"

"No," Bra said determinedly.

"I must die," Malachi said as forcefully as he could muster. "And then he will be vulnerable again for a short time until he finds another host. Capture him and expose him to—" He couldn't finish as he cried out in utter pain. He'd fallen back onto the bed writhing.

"Malachi!" Bra shouted in concern, "Stay with me. Stay with me!" She was struggling even harder against her father's hold, but he would not budge.

"Expose him to highly salinated water," Malachi spoke through gritted teeth. He'd only managed to lift himself a little with his arm.

Bra was looking at him a little confused likely because she wasn't familiar with the term he'd just used—it only served to agitate him as he fell back again clearly still in pain.

"Highly salinated water—gotcha," Bra said for his sake, "But I won't kill you and there is nothing you can say that will convince me otherwise!"

He seemed to have calmed down as his tense movements ceased. It took them all a moment to realize that he'd lost consciousness. Hesitantly Bulma moved forth after getting the okay from Vegeta to check his vitals. He was still alive and breathing, but he was most certainly unconscious as he did not respond to his name being called or her shaking him. Bra was finally able to approach him and soon she was beside the bed affectionately running a gentle hand down his face. She wiped the blood clean with the ball of her palm.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to hit you," Bra said quietly, "But I hate it when you give up like that. I know you can do anything you set your mind to. I don't care who or what this thing is inside of you—it cannot control you. No one's going to kill you—and you _will_ keep your promise."

Bulma had a sneaking suspicion she knew what this promise was that Bra kept mentioning, but she didn't want to alarm Vegeta just yet. She gave her daughter a knowing look and Bra gave her a smile in return.

No, there had to be another way, Bulma concluded determinedly, and Malachi had given her the first piece of useful information. Maybe just maybe she'd be able to discern something more from the data she'd gathered that day.

* * *

 **AN:** We'll see, Bulma, we'll see. Next chapter will be Malachi's POV.

 **WinIXI:** Thank you very much. That review really brightened my day because that's exactly what I've been striving for. Concise sentences and a story that has a good steady pace. That's something I've been working on since I first started writing as a kid and, man, is it something I struggle with even now. One day I'll write my own story, but that day is not now-I'm having too much fun writing about Vegeta!

 **WildHeart44:** Bra will be super supportive. She's a bit stubborn when it comes to things like that. Now who else is like that? *cough* Bulma *cough*


	18. The Dark Corners of His Mind

**The lights were dim even within the dark room.** He couldn't be sure how long he'd been lying there on the ground weak and enfeebled. He abhorred that feeling just as much as he hated the cuffs directly responsible for his condition. He didn't bother tugging against them, he never wasted any time or energy doing something so futile. The cuffs were there for his protection, but that did not mean he liked them any better. Of course, such thoughts he kept to himself so as not to alarm anyone.

Malachi knew it was better to appear compliant so as not to stoke unnecessary fear. Even if he happened to trust those around him, he knew people to act irrationally when it came to potential danger. Possessed by that thing, he was not safe to be around. He could hardly trust his own thoughts anymore. It would have been better to simply be isolated from everyone, but he could not stand that for long. He wanted Bra to be there. He wanted Vegeta to be there. So instead of scaring them away as would probably be best, he tried to act the part as best he could.

Always smile. Don't be rude. Show compassion. Be understanding. Let them think he was more concerned with their wellbeing over his own. Those were ideas he'd decided to live by long ago when he realized it would take him further. No one would care for an ill-tempered, maladjusted child, but a sweet and kind one?—surely, you could give that one some spare change; surely, there was some food you could part with.

He could barely lift up his own body and he hated it with a passion. He struggled to regain a sitting position as he sensed he'd been lying down for entirely too long.

"Laputa, is this what you had in mind? They won't allow me to ever be at full power even if they won't kill me."

Only he knew that name and the strange creature didn't seem all that concerned about letting everyone know about it. Malachi could care less either way. When he spoke to him out loud, he could feel him distinctively and sometimes he responded verbally or through images. This time was the former.

"Don't you worry, child. All will be as it should soon enough."

His response was cryptic and Malachi did not feel like asking the other to expound. He'd had excruciatingly long conversations with the strange entity. It spoke when it wanted to and not a moment sooner. Malachi understood him in ways he would not admit aloud. As his possession continued, he began to gain insight into his way of thinking. He was not repulsed by it. Malachi knew the creature to be obviously evil in nature, but he did not vehemently disagree, he simply knew what to categorize it as. That bore no correlation to how that actually made him feel. Malachi dared not stare into the abyss for too long else he might find that he enjoyed it as well and no amount of logic could tell him otherwise.

He'd made a promise to Bra and he fully intended on making good on it before any of this had occurred. After the tournament was over and done with, he intended to ask for her hand in marriage and he knew Bra was eagerly awaiting that moment. He'd told her such things in advance because he saw it only as a matter of timing, rather than a matter of whether she would say 'yes' or 'no'. He knew how she'd respond, but he wanted it to occur when he had the most free time to spare. After he completed his latest album, after the long months of touring, after the impromptu decision to fight in the tournament, after the media frenzy calmed down. Then he would be ready.

He felt such plans were now pointless as he knew he would not survive much longer as he was now. Even if Bra would be staunchly against doing away with him, Vegeta wouldn't. He wanted Vegeta to stop him permanently as he knew there was no other way. He'd already grown comfortable with the thought of death especially if it was at the hands of someone who he respected above all else. He was never given the chance to learn more about him, but Malachi believed he knew enough.

With every passing day, he felt his thoughts darkening and aligning with Laputa's. He did not feel as if he was losing himself. Instead he felt as if he was learning more about the part of himself he'd rather keep under lock and key—the part that always whispered in the back of his mind when things did not go his way. It was always there just below the surface of his façade, belittling his every move, questioning his motives. It had been and it still was a daily struggle that had gotten easier over time. All those calculated acts of kindness had begun to add up and make sense. It was becoming a philosophy, his mantra. It had given him a prosperous life. It had given him music in all its splendor. It had revealed to him the person he had consciously decided to spend the rest of his days with. It would not be wise to abandon it all so easily.

Decisions based around feelings were the most foolish ones of all. He knew giving into his deepest desires would end in a lasting failure, a spectacular fall from grace. No one would be there to save him. No one would be able to. If he ever succumbed, he did not expect Bra to be there in the face of such evil. Bra had fallen in love with the person he had allowed her to see not with the person he truly was. She would blame Laputa, but she'd be singing a different tune if she knew just how little he was manipulated by him.

Don't give in. Don't give in. Don't give in. But why not? Why postpone the inevitable? The process was nearly done. Nothing could separate them ever again and his mind would not be his own anyway. There was no sense in trying to control him when such attempts would cease soon enough. Then he realized why he was still resisting despite the inevitable end just as the door to his room opened to the green man he'd spoken to briefly before. His nose picked up the wafting scent of food immediately. His hunger had taken a backseat to his consuming thoughts.

"I've brought you food," Dende said presently.

"I can see that," Malachi replied. His mouth was already watering—pancakes and eggs. It must have been morning.

Instead of coming in, the green man simply stood there watching him critically.

An eyebrow rose on Malachi's deceptively placid expression.

"I've sensed your continued struggle as well," Dende said mysteriously.

"With that creature?" Malachi said after a pause. He wondered how anyone could sense anything about him as he'd painstakingly kept his ki signature hidden.

"No," Dende said shaking his head, "With yourself." Finally he did step in and bent down to place the warm plate on his lap. A fork had been placed there as well.

Malachi's eyebrows furrowed a little at this. "You're speaking in riddles."

"You know what I'm referring to."

Malachi was beginning to feel a bit uncomfortable in the other's presence. "What are you exactly?"

"I'm Namekian—an alien and at the same time the Guardian of Earth."

He chuckled at this. "Guardian? You're not even—"

"human?" Dende offered.

"Well, yeah—it's obvious you're not from around here."

"Do I need to be human to watch over Earth?" Dende asked in pleasant tones.

"Do I need to be Namekian to watch over whatever planet you hail from?"

Dende frowned at this unprepared for such a question. "That doesn't answer my question."

"Your non-answer speaks volumes," Malachi said with a grin. "So Guardian of Earth, what will you do to guard Earth from its impending doom?" he asked in challenging tones. "Where were you when this ancient being first came here?"

"You've mistaken my responsibilities with physical confrontation. I mobilize those who can fend off such threats—"

"And you've failed even at that. I would be _ashamed_ to call myself any sort of Guardian were I in your shoes," he sneered.

"I was the one who brought you back from certain death," Dende declared.

Malachi scoffed at this. "You think that impresses me? Were I dead, we might have avoided this entire situation. That fact still remains."

"Do you not value your own life?" Dende asked.

"Of course I do—what kind of question is that? But it seems…unavoidable at the moment unless you have a better idea. We're just dragging this out. The longer we wait…" Malachi looked away as he did not feel like ending the sentence.

"I know what Laputa is doing to you."

Malachi looked back at him with surprise as he used that name.

"I have very good hearing," Dende said knowingly. "You've called out his name on numerous occasions in your many nightmares."

Soon the surprise left his face. "The Guardian of Earth is a nosy alien who can miraculously heal people whenever he gets around to it—I suppose you're no more useless than any other god I've heard of. And it looks like you have some advice you want to tell me. Out with it then."

"You're far less pleasant than you let on, aren't you?" Dende said.

"Only when someone is especially annoying."

"I'm the person who brings you food when you're hungry and—not to brag—but I actually did save your life."

"And yet you annoy me like no other—how can that be?" Malachi finished sardonically.

He could tell that Dende didn't know how to respond to this and simply changed subjects. "The best way to keep this world safe is to help you. Vegeta told me that I should judge a man from his actions and not by what someone is capable of."

"Wise beyond his years, isn't he?" Malachi inserted.

"You respect him," Dende said knowingly.

Malachi did not bother with confirming the other's statement so he simply remained silent.

"Why do you hold on to the darkness that is in your heart? From what I have observed, that is the thing that Laputa latches onto, that is the thing that will fuse you forever with his will. Give in to the goodness not just in reasoning, but in every aspect of your being. It must be instinctual, something that you wholly believe in."

"That's easier said than done," Malachi replied slowly. "Much easier."

"But it can be done. If you become an undesirable vessel, Laputa will take his chances elsewhere."

"Oh, I see, then it's simple. All I would have to do is change my entire personality."

"You misunderstand. Not your personality, but your alignment. You've been given all the essential tools. In fact, I'm not entirely sure why you still cling on to that darkness when it has done nothing for you thus far. What is holding you back?"

Malachi found himself gazing at the Namekian wondering the same thing and then becoming lost in his thoughts only to shake his head in frustration. "I don't think…I know."

"Well," Dende said after a moment, "In the meantime, your food is getting cold and I know you must be starving."

"Where is Bra?" Malachi asked at once before it slipped his mind again.

"Are you concerned about her?" Dende asked curiously.

"I swear if you keep asking me these obvious questions that I'm sure you already know the answer to—

"I just want you to think more about your actions," Dende said interrupting his tirade. "Are you concerned about her or are you more concerned about spending so much time by yourself?"

"Why is that an either-or question? How about 'both'," Malachi said with a frown, "Are you satisfied or have I disappointed you further?"

"Both is fine. Very few people are completely selfless. She hasn't been feeling well lately. She came to visit you quite a bit—in fact, she practically lived here. Soon after the incident at Capsule Corp, however, you were unconscious for quite some time and Bra could hardly keep her food down anymore."

"Oh…I see," he said looking down at the food once again. "Hopefully she feels better soon."

"Yajirobe's pancakes are really quite good—so says Korin."

Malachi merely sighed, but it was not at all due to Dende's comment about the pancakes. He'd been looking forward to seeing her again—the one who called him silly every time he even thought of giving up, the one who believed he was capable of doing anything despite all the evidence to the contrary.

"I'll keep the door open. Now that you're more stable and awake, I think some sunlight will do you good."

* * *

 **Bra sat up silently in her bed deep in thought.** The last couple of days had been quite hectic. With Malachi the way he was, Vegeta did not think it was a good idea to keep him there in the house. Then it was as if her body began to rebel against her—a loss of strength and appetite along with the awful nausea. Clearly, she was in no condition to fight her parents' decisions. Her mother and father had claimed to have spoken to someone other than Malachi that day—he was not himself and it was difficult to tell when that was or wasn't the case. Bra couldn't deny the strange feeling she got every time she tried to reach out to him with her senses. He was changing and she didn't want to admit it—she couldn't admit it or else it would be true. Her mom was no closer to finding a solution and Malachi remained a ticking time bomb.

Today, however, was a new day and she no longer felt like she was going to spill out her guts at any second. In fact, she was starving. She felt for Malachi once again, but she was still met with a subtle eeriness to his presence. He was awake at the very least. He was still in a weakened state but it wasn't as dire as it had been before.

She freshened herself up for the day and made her way downstairs to see if there was any food to be found. It was midday—not exactly the time when Bunny would have been cooking anything special. Her father was training and her mother was still in the lab. Instead of attempting to throw something together for herself, she simply called for delivery. Her mind couldn't help but think about Malachi. If he was here, all she'd have to do was mention that she was hungry and he would already be making something for her. He didn't need much of an excuse for something he clearly enjoyed doing. And if she was being truthful, she preferred his cooking over anyone else's and she'd had her fill of a plethora of restaurants and her mother's friends. For right now, she'd have to make do with Chinese take-out.

She was glad no one was around to see just how much she'd ordered. It came as no surprise that it took nearly an hour for it all to arrive and the poor delivery man had to make two trips from his car to the front door. She tipped the man well and began on the feast in earnest. It wasn't exactly a normal occurrence, but not even her parents would be overly concerned about it.

Besides Malachi being inaccessible for the last two days, she discovered that she was with child—for two months apparently. It was only now that she was showing signs. Ever since that time after the tournament when she'd not taken her birth control pills on time, the thought had always been in the back of her head. They'd been especially active then; spending entire days in bed together and she acutely remembered effectively destroying his phone when it carried on ringing for too long. Who knew if the call had been important?—she'd wanted him all to herself and she was sure he got the message loud and clear after that. It wasn't until the morning after that she realized the issue and she'd been buying over the counter pregnancy tests bi-weekly ever since.

She hadn't told Malachi—he was going to ask her to marry her anyway, what would it matter that she told him after the fact? Surely he wouldn't be upset about it. The thing was, however, children was not a subject they'd actually touched on. Even as she tried to rationalize it in her mind, she actually had no idea how he would react to the news.

Her parents had been incredibly supportive. Her mother hadn't been upset at all and they had quite the night talking about _her_ experiences finding out about her first pregnancy with Trunks. Her father hadn't been angry so she counted that as being supportive, but he was clearly at a loss for words. It was difficult even to get a hold of him. She'd told her mom that she didn't think it would be a good idea to let Malachi know. She would wait until all of this blew over and she was certain that it would.

After she finished up with her meal, she decided to head out for the Lookout. She was feeling much better and no one had forbidden her from seeing him—not that it would have mattered if they had. It didn't take her very long to arrive. Once there, she made a beeline for him.

The first thing she noticed was that the door was opened which set her mind at ease. If Dende thought it was okay for that sort of thing, then Malachi may not be so far gone after all. She stepped into the doorway and beheld Malachi after two days of no communication with him. He wasn't exactly bursting with energy, but she could tell that he was glad to see her. That was all the invitation she needed as she walked into the room. She found herself holding him, embracing him. Then kissing him which he returned with equal exuberance.

"Bra," Malachi managed to say between mouthfuls, "Bra," he repeated trying to get her attention. She paused for his sake realizing that he probably didn't have the strength to push her away.

"Yes," she replied breathlessly. They were only inches apart and their foreheads were touching.

"Do you trust me?" he asked.

"Of course I do," Bra said back without hesitating.

"Then could you unlock these handcuffs for me?"

Bra pulled back from him, but only a little. "Even if I wanted to, I don't know the code. Why would you want to do that? You told me before that—"

"I know what I said before," he interrupted while looking at her steadily. "But I don't want to feel like this anymore," he finished, looking down at his hands. "I can barely function on my own."

"It won't be like that forever," Bra said bridging the gap between them and then wrapping her arms around him. She positioned herself a little more comfortably against him as she laid her head against his chest. He brought his arms around her as well and spread his legs a little further to accommodate her presence. "You know what you said before about having to," she paused when she realized she could hardly say it aloud. "There has to be another way. There always is. If you heard the stories I have about the enemies my friends had faced…Anything is possible. No one has to die."

"You're right," he said after a long pause, "It won't be like this forever."

Bra looked up at him as he said this noticing his shift in tone. Something about it worried her. He smiled at her briefly when her eyes met his. Her head returned to its previous positon; she held him even closer so that she could feel his heartbeat. It was just as calm and steady as it had always been, but even this did not set her mind at ease. In her heart, there was an apprehensive feeling that she could not shake.

* * *

 **AN:** Next up, back to Vegeta's POV just in case you've been missing his commentary. Things are about to heat up.

 **Bulletsforvalentine:** Yeah, Malachi is human. It's way easier to believably build up a human than convince someone that there's yet another Saiyan. Now, however, because of this concept of different universes that's now canon—I guess it's not so hard. Well, I'm glad you like Bra that way because I honestly couldn't figure out how to characterize her any differently. She doesn't show up very often in the show or have very much impact aside from softening Vegeta's personality so it's a bit difficult to flesh her out.


	19. Vegeta's Intuition

**Vegeta knew instinctively that something was wrong at the Lookout.** Bra was back home on account of her continued bouts of nausea. It was just like Bulma all over again when she was pregnant with Bra. He didn't know what to make of it aside from accepting it. He tended to put it on the backburner as if it was something he heard, but had not believed.

He flew off for the Lookout, but this time he decided not to make his presence immediately known. Once he arrived on the high-rise platform, he noticed the eerie quietness. Dende had not come out to greet him. As he sought out the Namekian with his ki sense, his suspicions were confirmed. He moved quickly now to the downed guardian near the room Malachi was being held. Dende was lying on the ground on his back, bloodied and badly injured; he could hardly move on his own.

"What happened?" Vegeta asked squatting down beside the other.

"M-Malachi," Dende managed to say.

Vegeta became on edge at the mention of that name. "How? He can barely move on his own. Did the handcuffs malfunction?"

"He broke free. I don't know how."

"Was there anyone else here?" Vegeta asked.

"No. It was just him. He waited for me…to visit him again. Then the rest happened so fast. I think he just…broke out of them himself."

Vegeta looked towards the open door to the room and then back to Dende. "Korin should have some senzu beans. I'll be back."

"Wait," Dende said as Vegeta stood, "Mr. Popo tried to stop him, but…I can't sense him anymore."

"I'll find him," Vegeta reassured the other.

He cautiously made his way to the room nearby. Malachi was obviously not here, but he didn't want to take any chances. From the doorway, he saw the handcuffs in pieces. It wasn't ripped off, it had been destroyed probably by ki. Someone at 3% would not be able to do as much yet he could not deny the evidence.

Learning all he could from that room, he made his way to Mr. Popo's waning ki signature. He was in worse condition than Dende. The genie must have put up a fight and was met with devastating results. He wasn't as bloodied as Dende, but he was nonresponsive though still breathing. He promptly flew down to the tower below to find Korin. For only a moment, he had a sinking feeling that they had been ravished as well.

He was relieved to find them well and in far better shape than the two upstairs. Maybe Malachi hadn't visited them at all.

"I never thought I'd be saying this—but I'm glad to see you," Korin said walking up to the Saiyan.

"So Malachi paid you a visit too," Vegeta said, "But you two fared better than expected."

"It was weird," Yajirobe said drawing Vegeta's attention. "Not that I've ever met him before, but there was definitely something off about him. And…he took all the senzu beans," he finished quickly.

"He took _all_ the senzu beans?" Vegeta repeated sharply.

"Yeah," Yajirobe said nervously.

"And you kept them all in the same place?—just in case someone would come and kindly take them off your hands," Vegeta said with obvious sarcasm.

"It's not often people other than us even know about senzu beans," Korin reminded him. "He said he wasn't going to use them for himself—that he just wanted to 'even the playing field'."

"Hmph, it doesn't matter either way. He won't be causing trouble for much longer."

That also meant that Dende and Mr. Popo wouldn't so easily recover from their injuries. Malachi had already taken out the two ways that had always given them an edge in the past. He seemed to be positioning himself to take them all out and leave them unable to retaliate in a reasonable amount of time. He wondered how Malachi could even pull it off if he'd be able to sense whenever a fight was taking place. The others would not go down easily as far as he knew.

Then he paused in midflight back to the lookout. Why would Malachi even need to bother with them? Vegeta had no idea where he was. As usual, he was hiding his ki signature. Likely he was biding his time to recover. He could use a space ship—something that was not as nearly difficult to obtain as it had in the past thanks to the advancements in technology—and be well off the Earth's surface. Then he could summon a power blast strong enough to demolish the planet and Vegeta would likely get there too late to stop its impact. In fact, he could do all this quite soon. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up.

He sped up to the lookout and took the two occupants in his arms. Then he left them in the medical ward of the compound he and Bulma lived in. She'd stockpiled on medical supplies and it proved to be a useful investment considering all the injuries he and others had sustained over the years. Dende's healing and the senzu beans were for emergencies after all and not for every little mishap.

After this was done, he thought about his next course of action. Everything pointed to Malachi likely fighting them off first before going through with his plans. It was an obvious flaw in his so-called plan if that was the case, but Vegeta hoped he would not figure this out. Once they were down, he was sure he would finish Earth off quite easily and with no remorse. His motives might have been foreign to most, but Vegeta understood them. Once he'd heard the creature speak in Bulma's lab, Vegeta knew. It was a creature that reveled in destruction and it was likely a single-minded pursuit. He wondered what fusing with a human might do to such a creature. Could something so simplistic so easily control the complexity of a human's mind? It had seemed confident enough—there was no reason to believe it would have any issues if this truly was something it had done before countless times. Only time would tell.

Now that Malachi was loose, it would be better to let the others know so that they were not caught unaware if he decided to pay them a visit. After Bulma's party, he decided that his contact list needed to contain more than just those of his family. He decided it would be wise to have their numbers so that he wouldn't have to come to their places individually if he ever had need for them. He was not so arrogant to think there would never be a time when this might be the case. Admittedly, he hadn't asked them while at the party, but had simply copied Bulma's exhaustive list of contacts.

He started with Krillin and then worked his way down the list disregarding those associated with those he'd already called—word of mouth worked just as well. He was not a conversationalist and kept it short and concise. Almost everyone sounded surprised when they realized it was him. It began to annoy him, but it wasn't an unreasonable reaction. The last person he called was Tien—it was surprising enough that he had a phone at all, he likely didn't use it often. Vegeta didn't know much about him and he didn't care to find out, but it was obvious to him that he must be quite solitary almost hermit like. He didn't have high hopes of his call being received. In fact, the first attempt ended in him being sent to voicemail after listening to it ring several times. Then he tried one more time just so he could tell himself that he'd actually put some effort into it. On the fifth ring, the phone was answered.

"Who is this?" Tien asked abruptly.

"Vegeta," he answered singularly. This was usually the part when their surprise would be expressed.

"So I assume the world is ending," Tien replied with little pretense.

"That's a pretty huge leap in logic."

"Is it? So there's some other reason you'd bother calling me?"

Vegeta left that question unanswered but he got his point. "I just wanted to inform you to be on your guard—Malachi has escaped and I have no idea what he's up to."

"You've already lost me. Malachi from the tournament has escaped? Escaped from what and why is that a bad thing? What does this have to do with the world ending?"

"You mean you have no idea what's been happening for the past few days?" Vegeta asked incredulously. "No one's bothered to tell you anything?" He was beginning to wonder if it was worth his time even calling Tien if no one else thought to do so.

"I've been pretty much out of the loop since Buu," Tien informed the other, "Aside from Bulma's infrequent calls about yet another one of her get-togethers."

"Do you want to know what's been happening or not?" Vegeta asked with a hint of exasperation.

"Of course, if you feel it might help matters."

"Listen closely and don't interrupt," Vegeta ordered. Then he recounted the events of the past week in detail concerning Malachi and the threat they now faced.

"I see now. I think it's a good idea to let as many people as possible know what's happening. We're still at a great disadvantage if we have no idea what he's doing right now."

"Exactly," Vegeta said planning to hang up at this point since the other was clearly up to speed.

"But you haven't told me what you plan to do about Malachi."

"I'll cross that bridge once I get there. Bulma may have figured something out by then."

"And if there isn't some convenient solution? What then?"

"What are you getting at?" Vegeta questioned not liking the other's train of thought.

"If Malachi cannot be separated from the real enemy, what do you intend to do?"

Vegeta did not answer immediately though he already knew the answer. "The only other thing left to do. It can't be reasoned with."

"You haven't spoken to him since the fusion's completion, right? We're assuming he's more powerful as a result," Tien continued.

"Yes," Vegeta simply stated waiting for the other to get to his point.

"Then maybe he's not as single-minded as he was before."

"Are you saying he could be made to bend to reason?" Vegeta asked.

"Perhaps. I wouldn't say it's out of the realm of possibilities. I haven't met him so I couldn't say for certain. But if it is the case, I'd be willing to take him under my wing."

Vegeta snorted at the thought of this. "The guy who spends his days training and doing nothing else?"

"I've found even more fulfillment in training those with a likeminded passion for martial arts. When I met Malachi before he entered the tournament, I realized he had a great amount of innate fighting sense, but that he lacked structure. Yet he was able to learn that technique within moments of me showing it to him in the first place. It would be a shame to let that kind of talent go to waste."

"So you want to train him," Vegeta concluded.

"It wouldn't simply be physical," Tien said, "But finding a balance in one's life; wisdom, honesty—"

"Fine," Vegeta said cutting the other off, "If it comes to that."

He ended the conversation there just as abruptly as it had begun. Neither were overly familiar with phone etiquette. Tien had given him more to consider. In the end, outright killing off Malachi would be a difficult act to carry out and Bra would never forgive him. Even if there was no other choice, he had a feeling that logic would not win out with Bra's reasoning. Not only would he be hurting her, but their unborn child as well. He thought of that outcome often as well as others. He wanted to put all of his eggs in one basket, in Bulma's ability to come up with something in the nick of time, but he knew that was dangerous and that he needed to be prepared for anything.

But it wasn't all doom and gloom. He would never admit it to anyone, but he wanted to face Malachi in combat. Somehow all the cards had fallen into place and they could fight each other on equal terms. Maybe that one goal that Malachi had been striving for since he first started training was the only reason Earth remained intact and that he could even have the luxury of pondering about it.

* * *

 **AN:** Prepare yourself for a chapter that's way too long, up next in Malachi's POV.

 **Maximusrexmundi:** First off, I'm glad you've enjoyed it thus far. Now for the latter part of your review. I wasn't entirely aware of the different races in Dragon Ball. I really never watched it and only know a few key things from it. So, I'll check out episode 81 and that Fortune Teller Baba arc. If it's compelling enough, I might consider that, but retcon is not my specialty. For characters like Tien and Yamcha, I actually had to look up some wiki articles because they did so little in Z and GT, but I still wanted to do something with them.

And Malachi being way too gifted? Maybe, but that would be like saying Bulma is way too much of a scientific genius, that is to say that there is enough variety in humans to have at least a few people who has a comparable fighting sense to Goku. Not all Saiyans can catch on quickly to things like that—Goku, himself is an anomaly within his own race—from the few Saiyans we see, it seems that way. Also, are Tien and Krillin prodigies? I had no idea. Seemed like they worked pretty hard to get to where they are now. Tien trains all the time yet he doesn't seem to be learning or developing any new moves, but this is likely because Toriyama totally forgot about them (and I wouldn't put it past him)


	20. The Miserably, Maladjusted Malachi

**Emotions were deeply integrated into a human being's existence.** They were difficult to ignore and even harder to control. Malachi was no different. Even as his being became fused with Laputa they remained just as prevalent as ever. Along with his darkest thoughts were things that he loved as well. Laputa possessed no real sense of personality, no real identity. It's only want was to destroy and to live to continue in that venture. The entity had fused with countless other beings, but none had been a perfect fit. The fusion was always incomplete, but just enough to carry out its single desire.

Malachi was different. He sensed it the moment he felt his presence. He'd raced towards his perfect match preparing himself to feel something he'd never in his life been privy to. Old tales of his kind had been told to him many times before. One's perfect fit; the being that would make him whole and he would begin to see the world in the way it was meant to be seen.

He'd been drawn by the presence of pure darkness; something that he could easily understand and manipulate. But once he had inhabited that person, his simplistic world had become far more complex than he had ever imagined possible and it had happened all in an instant. The moment he'd completely combined with Malachi's soul, nothing made sense any longer. He tried to focus on his objective, but his perception of it became colored with emotions and experiences he was not used to.

He had been a creature who needed for nothing. He required no sustenance to survive. The concept of communicating with others was almost foreign to him or even needing to be near anyone else. He simply lived. Never aging, never growing sick, never needing care, and only driven by his singular desire.

It had all been difficult to take in at once. The first emotion he was presented with once the fusion was complete was frustration. The feeling of weakness had become a constant part of his life in the past few days and that frustration only intensified. He made quick work of the cuffs as he forcefully reclaimed a small measure of stored power in the mechanism and used it to shatter it into pieces.

Once free, he immediately ran into Dende. He intended to kill him outright, but something stopped him from going through with it. Nonetheless, his appearance was annoying and his frightened face upon seeing him only edged him on. When he struck the Namekian once across the face with his fist, a feeling of satisfaction came over him. Liking this, he continued to pound Dende into a pulp before that feeling began to diminish with each strike.

He would have taken off immediately had Mr. Popo not insisted in making his presence known. His energy was waning now. How he was even still able to get around was a mystery in itself. Anger overtook him as he realized that the genie must have known how weak he was and believed that he could take him on if only to stall him. The fight lasted for all of two seconds, but at least he'd put up a fight at all. He left him unconscious before taking off for the very next place he'd planned to go.

There was a tower that sat below the lookout which housed the senzu beans. Bra had told him as much before, but he had not believed her in much the same way he had not believed in her miracle healer. He found the place soon enough and stepped into the small circular space without further ado. Two occupants beheld him and both looked scared stiff. One was a white cat standing on two feet as if it was the most natural thing in the world and the other an equally as chubby swordsman with unruly black hair. As his eyes passed over them, he realized that he had no inclination to harm them. The anger had disappeared just like that and was replaced with curiosity.

"M-Malachi, p-pleasure s-seeing you today," Korin sputtered in greeting to the silent intruder.

"The pleasure is all mine," he replied smoothly while making his way to the talking cat.

"And what b-brings you here," Korin continued obviously trying to retain his composure.

Korin appeared soft and velvety though nervous as he approached him. Malachi didn't answer immediately as he stood in front of him now, looming over the other. He squatted down to his level and reached his hand out to then begin petting him. Malachi felt his stiffness first touching him, but it soon eased off.

"Such a cute little kitty," Malachi said softly as he scratched behind his ears. Korin appeared too stunned to say anything back. "I came for your senzu beans," Malachi said a little louder. "Do you have them?"

"I can't simply hand them over to you," Korin replied with an impressive show of courage.

"You can't?" Malachi asked casually. He was still thoroughly enjoying the softness of the fur. "And why ever not?"

"Well," Korin began slowly, "I suppose one would be sufficient enough for you."

Malachi sensed the other person, the swordsman, moving slowly away which drew a smirk from him. "Swordsman, you try my patience," he said without even bothering to turn his way. "Whatever you plan to do will likely not end well for you."

"Oh, well I-I was just going to grab something," the swordsman said in surprise, "For you to sign—if you don't mind."

Now Malachi did turn his head to look at him curiously.

"Man, I can't believe I'm actually meeting you in person! Which is super awesome, I mean, minus the destroy-the-world stuff. I bought _all_ of your albums and since you're here and all…" the swordsman rambled on.

"Let's see them then," Malachi said with a smile. Another feeling threatened to overtake him as he watched the man quickly run off to his collection of music; it was impossible to stop himself from grinning. He'd abandoned the cat for the swordsman who also had a fine tipped permanent marker ready for him. "Where would you like?" he found himself asking.

There were eight albums in total and the swordsman knew exactly where he wanted it to be signed. Very few people even had physical copies of his music which impressed Malachi.

"I can't believe it's really you—right in front of me. I heard you were up there in the lookout for a while."

"Yeah, that was me."

"And here I thought everyone was pulling my leg."

Malachi's eyebrows furrowed a bit as he began to think. "Were you the one who made the food for me?"

Yajirobe was at a loss of words for a moment, but then recovered. "That was _all_ me—the name's Yajirobe."

"Yajirobe, from the party. I remember you now. Your food was excellent, it did well for my spirits."

"Th-thanks," Yajirobe said grinning like a fool now.

Satisfied with his response and after he'd finished the signing, his mind came back to the senzu beans. Malachi turned back to the cat now.

"The senzu beans," Malachi stated firmly.

"I-I just can't let you have them," the portly cat said once again. "You understand, don't you?"

"Oh, I understand," Malachi said with a grin. "You see, I don't plan on using it on myself—I'm severely allergic to legumes," he said before he could stop himself. He frowned at this, but then continued. "I'd rather not take the chance to figure out whether I'd live or die from the effects. I just want to even the playing field. I'm only one guy and I know there will be those who will try to stop me. What fun would it be if they can come back from any beating I give them no matter what? Where are the stakes? "

"So you're trying to destroy them?" Korin asked.

"No," Malachi said shaking his head, "I would never destroy such a precious commodity. Even if I can't use it, it might be useful elsewhere." He gazed exclusively at Korin waiting for the other to realize that there was no use in resistance; he would have them either way.

"You just want to keep them for yourself to store for some rainy day?" Korin asked now.

"You're stalling, little kitty," Malachi said as he held out his arm with open palm facing Korin, "And I have no problem turning you into a pile of ash—a pitiful end, don't you think? By then, you would have accomplished nothing."

Korin was tense again, but he did not seem as if he would budge. Malachi only sighed exasperatedly at this. He'd already given this cat far more time than he'd ever given Dende to stand down, but Dende wasn't a soft, furry talking cat.

"Korin, just give it to him—it isn't worth your life," Yajirobe said out of the clear blue.

Korin looked to the swordsman now and then after another pause, finally gave in. "Fine," the other said in defeat.

Malachi put down his hand as he watched cat shuffle over to a corner and grabbed a small brown leather sack. He watched his movements intently just in case there was some foul play on the cat's part. A moment later and the cat was throwing the bag in his direction. Whether it was a ploy to catch him off guard or an act of insolence, Malachi could care less as he caught it effortlessly in his hand. Even this didn't anger Malachi and he was beginning to think it was quite impossible for Korin to ever elicit such an emotion from him.

"Glad you finally came to your senses," Malachi said as he turned towards the railings that surrounded the entire place.

The tower being a wide-open place, it would not be difficult to leave. Before he fully took off, however, Yajirobe spoke up again.

"Hey," Yajirobe called out. "Are you…done with music now?"

The question had caught him off guard and he stood frozen in midair. He considered simply disregarding the question altogether, but his mind fixated on the subject. Then he knew the answer as his mouth curved into a brief grin.

"I will never stop making music as long as I live."

Malachi took off with this in decidedly a good mood. There was nothing holding him back now—he was free and so far everything was moving along smoothly despite not fully understanding the intricacies of his own motivations. He knew what it was all leading up to. For now, he was headed back to his house to recover a few useful items; a capsule that contained a single unit living quarters being the one of note at this point. He wasn't at full power yet and the easiest way to recover was by resting. It was really the only way to naturally do so.

A window on the second floor of his considerable house was always open. Instead of walking through the front door, he simply used this. His room was down the hall where he kept quite a collection of capsules. He opened a drawer in his walk-in closet and was presented with many choices.

Capsule Corp was pretty much a household name. It was a corporation that had its hands in so many markets that there was likely no business avenue untouched by it. It was a family owned business and Malachi had been quite aware of the Briefs. They're faces may not have been as widely broadcasted as their innovations, but they could be found in magazines which had done in-depth interviews. They were private to be sure, but Malachi had known who Bulma Briefs was and her appearance before he'd ever met her. She'd made mention of having a family, but her husband was hardly ever seen if at all. Once Trunks had assumed a prominent role in the business, his identity was quite well known—a notable bachelor. Bra as well had not been wholly anonymous. He knew her to be around the same age as he if not a couple years younger.

When he first met eyes with Bra on that fateful night, he knew immediately who she was. She was not widely known and therefore not plagued by adoring fans or ever forced to hide her identity to mingle with the public. He knew that she was from money and that if they ever dated, it would not be completely out of the norm. That was why he had taken a chance and approached her in the first place despite not being in any real need for companionship. Eventually he would and he was not likely to stumble upon such happenstance again. He was not getting any younger and he did not wish to be an old man having not sired any children or made any attempts at starting a family.

He had not been particularly captivated by her beauty and she was not at all well-endowed. The women he saw on a regular basis that appeared frequently in his music videos were far more alluring. Luckily, he had no preference in a woman's appearance. He'd been around enough women to know how to talk to them—it wasn't exactly rocket science. Sure, different types of women preferred different things, but he treated them as he would any other friend. He did that with Bra that night and she seemed pleasant enough.

That was what Bra had meant to him in the beginning; a pleasant female friend who he called his girlfriend. He became used to her constant presence and found that he liked it. He found he could talk to her about things he'd never told anyone else. He trusted her despite not having a concrete reason to do so—he'd taken a leap of faith because the burden of always being a certain way became unbearable when there was someone who genuinely seemed to care.

Bra was a very sexually driven woman. He hadn't been a virgin upon dating her, but sex was an infrequent pastime of his. Honestly, he derived more pleasure from music, but he supposed Bra was a close second. Sometimes when he just wanted to talk and lie about, she would become a ferocious beast that he was hard pressed to deny. He told her no on so many occasions that it became inevitable that he would soon have to acquiesce. The one time he did had landed him in a hospital for weeks. It was a near death experience that he did not want to repeat. When they finally revisited such activities, things had turned out better, but Bra was still capable of wearing him out perhaps not on a physical level, but on an excitement level. He pleasured her because it was necessary for a fulfilling relationship or at least that was what he had read and heard on plenty of occasions. Once he really got into it, he supposed it was something interesting to do, but it certainly wasn't on his list of important things to do. Such facts were ironic considering the kind of music he made, but creating the allusion of superior knowledge on the subject was quite easy if there was a catchy beat involved.

He decided at some point that Bra was the one. She was perfect in all the ways that mattered and he would not be upset if he stayed with her for the rest of his life. Courting was an exhausting process anyhow—he would not like to repeat it. Vegeta had been an unexpected bonus. Despite being an orphan, he hadn't been desperately searching for some sort of semblance of guidance from adults. The time in which that actually mattered had long since passed and he had moved on. Yet Vegeta's presence had brought those feelings back as if they'd been there the whole time and he felt a strange need to impress him. It was a short-lived feeling as his current plans would not exactly make the Saiyan Prince feel anything but scorn for him, but he still respected him. It would have been quite the icing on the cake to be considered the son albeit only by law of such a man.

Malachi finally made a decision on the capsules he would take; one contained a house and the two others he took were space ships. He couldn't linger as he knew his escape would soon be known by those he did not want to face just yet. That was when the door to his room was opened. He turned to behold Bra much to his surprise. Apparently, his ki senses still were not up to par, but if he was to be caught by anyone he would rather it be her.

"I knew you were here," Bra said as she walked towards him, "What are you doing? How did you get out?"

Malachi saw no reason to lie to her. "I'm looking for a capsule that will serve as a temporary home for me. Do you intend to stop me?"

"So you're running away?" Bra asked. Her eyes did not look accusing. She seemed to only be trying to understand.

"I'm biding my time so that I can recover my lost energy."

"Because of the handcuffs," Bra stated as she looked down at his wrists. "You said…once you were no longer weakened that that creature…"

"It has already been done, Bra."

"What do you mean?"

"We have fused as one being. No more fighting against it. No more trying to figure out a way to get rid of it."

Bra's eyes widened at this. "But…you sound like yourself. You seem fine."

"Do I?" Malachi questioned with an amused grin. "Well, there is only one voice, one set of experiences."

"What do I even call you?" Bra asked a little put off.

"Just call me Malachi as I've always been."

"But then I don't get it. Nothing has changed," Bra declared though in a confused tone.

"I'll take that as a compliment," he replied with a smile. "I need to know right now, however. Do you intend to stand in my way?"

Bra was quiet for a while and then shook her head. "I won't let anyone hurt you if you haven't done anything wrong."

"Not yet," Malachi said dismissively, "But I plan to."

Bra stepped closer still to him so that she took up his entire view and he could feel her breathing. She placed her hands around his face. "Don't do it," she said quietly.

Her eyes were pleading and her touch had an unexpected effect on him. He found himself gazing back almost falling headfirst into those pools of blue. Those wretched emotions were back and they were swirling wildly out of his control. It was difficult to reign in. He wondered if he even wanted to in the first place as he leaned in further to taste her lips. He'd almost forgotten how much he enjoyed doing such things. Kissing was different from actual intercourse and he was quite good at it. He tilted her head back a little so that he could kiss her deeper and longer. He lost all sense of time in that moment. Nothing else mattered but the woman whose lips he was devouring.

It was Bra who stepped back first breathlessly. "Where did _that_ come from?" she asked but obviously pleasantly surprised.

"I've missed you," Malachi lied. He did not want to admit that he'd gotten carried away. He knew he had to leave quickly. His mind was becoming a labyrinth and he needed time to clear it.

"Sorry," she replied in understanding, "I haven't been feeling well lately."

She seemed well enough now so his sudden worry was quickly relieved. "I'm glad you're feeling better now."

"If you really mean that, then you'd reconsider that crazy plan of yours."

"Then perhaps I don't mean it at all. Maybe I'm just going through the motions."

"I don't believe that. You don't believe that," Bra said with crossed arms.

Malachi averted her gaze. "I have to go now that I got what I came for," he said walking towards the open window.

"I'm coming with you," she declared.

"You will do no such thing," Malachi said stolidly as he stood in front of the window.

"Then destroy me right here and now," Bra challenged.

Malachi's head turned to her slightly. "It would serve little purpose." He was looking at the window again. "You should go home and rest. That's twice you've not been feeling well—it might be something serious."

"It might be," Bra said in a tone that suggested she was not telling him the full story.

"Give me some time to figure things out," Malachi said if only to set her mind at ease. His mind was too unsettled to even consider physically harming her and he feared it might damage his own psyche in the process.

"Alright," Bra said relenting, "Maybe that's all you need. But you can't hide from me, Malachi, not like you can everyone else. I know you're low on energy right now and I know that you're very confused. I can still feel _you_ as if nothing has changed. I won't let anyone know where you are for the time being."

"Thank you," Malachi said singularly before climbing through the window and taking to the skies. He needed to escape her presence quickly. He didn't like what it was doing to him and his thoughts were beginning to undermine his plans.

He looked for a water source, a small lake or river where he could set the capsule dwelling; the contraption worked more efficiently with the presence of natural water nearby. He couldn't fly very fast as he was trying to keep his ki undetectable and he did not have much energy to spare. Though it would have been safer to settle down someplace further away, he stopped at the first sign of a winding lake. A small village occupied a good portion of the coast, but it was surrounded by a deep forest on the other three sides of it. A small dwelling in the middle of the dense forest would likely not draw too much attention. He quickly made this place his home and activated the capsule with a click. He threw forth the small device and it burst into a modest capsule house. It contained a fully stocked kitchen, a small dining room, a living room, one bathroom, and a twin sized bed that served as a bedroom though it did not reside in its own sectioned off room. It was simply a bit more room beside the living room.

When he stepped into it, he investigated the place making sure everything appeared in order. There was indeed food and there was indeed a bed to sleep on. But before he did anything further, he found himself pulling out the sack of senzu beans wondering what he should do with it. Maybe there was nothing else to do with it. It was out of the hands of his enemies and he would not use them. He wondered if he should bury them. Certainly, he should hide them. Bra knew where he was so it was possible for others to find out eventually. It would not be a good idea to keep them here.

His eyes gazed at the bag and his mind was swelling with so many ideas, not all of them were selfish either. He could still see Bra staring at him and he found himself falling once again. He clutched the bag a little tighter. Then he walked over to the kitchen to pull out the miniature food processor. There were over a dozen beans stockpiled over the long years of non-use. He threw them all into the container with a blade in its center. After replacing the top, he turned it on until the churning blades converted it into dust. The small container was almost halfway full.

From the cabinet above, an empty seasoning container was pulled out. Carefully, Malachi poured the contents into the new container. Done too fast and he'd be breathing in the beans and in his weakened state, he doubted he'd survive the resulting onset of an allergic reaction. He wasn't overly concerned, however. The thought of dying from such a silly mistake as that by the likes of beans that were supposed to do the opposite would be quite ironic.

One of his hands closed into a fist as his thoughts returned to Bra. "Damn you," he said harshly under his breath. "Maybe this will make you happy, then I can move on and focus on the real objective."

He closed the lid of the bottle, stuffed it into his pocket and quickly left the house. Malachi had been part of quite a bit of charity work—it was something he did to improve his image. He'd given far more money for humanitarian purposes than any other entertainer. That was easy to do since he was also the most prominent and thus more highly paid. What he didn't put back into his music and day-to-day expenses were put towards this. He'd written inspirational songs about it, visited less fortunate countries, hospitals, and schools. Apart from it being a strategic move on his part, there were times when it resonated with him. His heart simply wasn't cold enough to disregard the sight of children who had no future. As many advancements in medicine as there'd been in the last decade impart due to his funding, there were still cancer and diseases that had no cures that children were born with to this day. In his hand, he believed he had the cure to all of them.

He knew where the most populated hospitals were and flew to them without a second thought. He made easy work of locked doors by simply ripping them open. The janitorial entrances were hardly secured past a keycode since they worked around the clock anyway. He couldn't simply rush into the cafeteria where they stored food; he had to be careful. His appearance was easily recognizable so he had to sneak his way to his destination. It wasn't very hard considering that visiting hours was over and only a skeleton crew worked at this time of day.

Malachi painstakingly spent nearly two hours sifting bean powder into the vast storage of food as carefully as possible. When he was finished, he saw he still had enough for two more hospitals. Each of those took two more hours each to do. It was practically the next morning when he was finished and he was beginning to fall asleep on his feet.

Once home, he planned to collapse on the bed, but his body had other plans as he found himself puking his guts out in the bathroom accompanied with a shortness of breath. This continued until he emptied what little contents he had in his stomach. At which point, he was able to fall back against the wall; he'd already been on his knees. It hadn't been as bad as he'd experienced in the past. He must have gotten a whiff of the bean powder likely during his last hospital which had felt more like a blur than anything else. His eyes were threatening to close, but he refused sleep in a bathroom.

He climbed back to his feet slowly and made the impossible journey all the way over to the other side of the house where his sweet bed resided. He did, in fact, collapse upon it, but he did not fall asleep immediately. Not only was he feeling hunger pangs, but lingering abdominal pain all of which folded on one another. He groaned uncomfortably, but there was not much he could do for it. He simply waited for it ease off. He had no idea when that was as his exhaustion finally won out.

* * *

 **The smell of food hit him so hard that he began salivating.** He'd sat down at an impossibly long table filled with food, but when he tried to take a bite out of the thick slab of steak on his plate, it tasted just like air. Then his eyes were opening wearily to the white ceiling of his house. The smell of food had not gone away, however. He heard cooking emitting from the kitchen encouraging him to sit up. However, he was far more sluggish than he thought as the entire endeavor became a struggle. It was then that he noticed the slobber that had crawled down the side of his face. He wiped it away quickly though with a disgusted expression—it wasn't something he did often. Then it hit him like a ton of bricks: the hunger pangs from last night had intensified to severe levels and he bent over in sudden pain. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been so ravenous. It likely would not have been so unbearable were it not for the scent of food teasing his nose.

"Here, mister," a child's voice said causing Malachi to pause.

He grunted as he sat up straighter to look at the child. A boy no older than eleven or twelve stood beside him holding out a hot plate of chicken and rice. Wordlessly, he took the heavenly food off the boy's hand. Then he began on it immediately, forgetting all those manners he'd learned over the years. He hadn't even bothered to ask questions as he practically inhaled everything on that plate. The boy giggled playfully beside him, but Malachi paid him no mind until he was thoroughly finished.

"Man, that hit the spot," Malachi said with a content sigh. "Humans and their need for food is something to get used to."

Then Malachi's attention was on the boy who wore an amused expression. His skin was quite tan and his dark hair was curly and short. It reminded him of his own hair which was now becoming unruly and curly again though he did not have any plans of visiting a salon at this point to reclaim his signature look.

"What are you doing here?" Malachi asked to the child.

"Your door was open," he said simply.

Malachi looked up when he heard a pan hit the ground from the kitchen. "So it's you and someone else just waltzing into people's homes."

"Me and two others," the boy corrected. "And I haven't seen this place here before so we checked it out…And we were hungry."

His eyes softened if only a little when he heard this.

"So were you," the boy accused the other as if he had done something wrong. "We found you and you were mumbling about food and your stomach was growlin' real loud, but you wouldn't wake up. So we were doing _you_ a favor."

"Oh, I see now. You're just a small group of innocent, altruistic children who barged into some stranger's house and who _aren't_ making off with all my food at this very moment," Malachi finished with a grin.

The boy's head looked down and his foot kicked at the floor once. He was the picture of being caught in a lie. "We're not taking _all_ the food," the boy argued.

Malachi felt strong enough to sit on the side of his bed which he did then causing the boy to step back a few paces. "I know you're not—I won't let you," Malachi said almost completely dropping his pleasant tone.

The boy must have sensed he was in trouble as he looked up fearfully unlike he had before. "We meant no harm…we were just…really hungry. We live in that village next to the water. It's only 2 hours away if you're walking."

"Listen, kid, how about you leave the food and I'll cook you and friends food whenever you can make it here. How 'bout that? Then when I'm done with the place, you can have whatever's left—even this place as I won't have any need for it."

"R-really?" the boy said excitingly.

"Really," Malachi confirmed. "It's a capsule house—it's already paid for."

"Really?! Oh my gosh, I have to tell my friends!"

Malachi sighed inwardly at the other's excitement as he raced passed the living room and into the dining room and kitchen where the others were. With a sigh, he finally stood up to see the three little ruffians who had bravely entered a house that had not been there before. It spoke volumes to their state of living. Two boys and one girl all with varying degrees of dark curly hair and filthiness sat around the modest dining room table. Three heaping large plates of chicken and rice sat on the dining room table already with signs of being eaten partially. The chattering children quieted down instantly upon seeing him, awaiting, it seemed, some sort of verdict.

"When you finish tearing into my food, go get yourself cleaned up. I don't want your dirt messing up the place."

They're barely contained smiles was enough thanks for him as he prepared to leave them to their own devices. He had no more to say to them. The kid from before spoke up again before he could leave them properly.

"Can we…stay for a while?"

Malachi sighed deeply at this. "Do what you want—just don't bother me, alright?"

"Okay, no problem, mister—we'll be super quiet. Right guys?"

The other two muttered their agreement. Malachi hardly believed them. He had nothing under lock and key in the place; they could easily take off with his valuables if they really wanted to. They could take off with his food as well which would be quite inconvenient, but not enough to make him overly concerned with their presence.

He trudged off to the bathroom to take a shower—he hadn't taken one in a while, he realized. It was quite refreshing as well and he felt as if he was being spoiled. This level of comfort though unnecessary was much appreciated. He knew it was dangerous to admit, but he couldn't help it. There were many things he found he could not resist sufficiently enough. Everything was becoming far too complicated and he hadn't expected it at all. He couldn't simply go through with his plans at the moment because he was still not at full power and he could not possibly hope to combat his inevitable opposition—especially not Vegeta.

After he dried himself and threw on some other set of dark clothes, he returned to the bed even though he wasn't exactly tired. It was difficult to force himself to rest when his brain was so awake. He stared up at the ceiling in utter boredom and listened to the children cause more ruckus about the place. They weren't being very quiet at all. He heard one child trying to shush the others when they got too loud, but with no supervision, their initial caution went out the window and they were just as noisy as they would normally be; playing hide-and-seek, making up some fictitious game that made little sense to his adult mind and likely had no real rules. Inevitably it would devolve into argument and then they'd start some other venture. Such were children.

It didn't bother him in the slightest. In fact, it was just as calming as listening to the gentle waves of the ocean. Finally, hours later, he began to doze off. The girl was shouting how something wasn't fair and a boy argued back how it indeed was and pointed out some earlier example of why that was the case. And then he was no longer following what was being said as their voices started making less and less sense.

He had no idea how much time had passed when he awoke to gut-wrenching hunger pangs again as if he hadn't eaten anything all day. He grimaced at the pain, annoyed by it. This didn't seem normal. The sound of children was nonexistent and the house had gotten darker. Instead, that noise had been replaced by the sound of the television. He looked over to see them all asleep on the floor of the living room with the television left on a channel that catered to a young adult audience. He was momentarily distracted by the moving pictures on it depicting what seemed to be the life of a rather promiscuous teenage girl in a high school setting.

That was when he heard the front door open. He looked up in time to see Bra step in. He decided not to say a word as she looked about the place curiously. She investigated the kitchen first and then the bathroom briefly before moving towards him. She paused in the living room looking down at the resting children and finally her eyes came to him with a raised eyebrow.

"I guess I have the right place," Bra said as she sat on the side of the bed. Her eyes returned to the living room as her back was to him. "You realize your kitchen and bathroom look as if a tornado went through them, right?"

"I'm not surprised," Malachi said nonchalantly.

She chuckled softly. "And when did you suddenly adopt three kids?"

"They found their own way here. I haven't gotten around to kicking them out yet."

"I see," she said almost to herself. "Just wanted to make sure you were alright."

"I'm fine," he said back quickly.

"No you're not," she replied firmly.

He didn't even attempt to tell her no. He was beginning to suspect that something else other than the obvious might be wrong. It didn't seem serious, however, just something he'd overlooked.

"Have you seen the news recently? A surprising number of kids miraculously healed fully from injuries that should have taken months to heal at the same time, at the same three hospitals."

"Hm," Malachi acknowledged dismissively. "Only those with injuries?" he said after a moment.

"Yeah," Bra answered. "I bet parents will be clamoring to have their child sign in there."

"Um-hm," he acknowledged again with little enthusiasm.

"Then the _names_ of the hospitals stood out to me," Bra continued, "Aren't they the ones you do charity for like every other month?"

"I do. Sometimes," he muttered.

"How would you know if I haven't even told you which hospitals?" Bra turned to look at him with a chiefly grin on her face. "You did something, didn't you?"

He noticed his mistake well after he'd made it and then sighed. "Senzu beans," he said after a moment. "The ones you told me about. Though they don't seem as miraculous as I thought."

"How did you get them to eat it?—How did you even have them in the first place?"

He decided he had no energy to hide things from the curious Bra. "I pilfered them from Korin 'cus I didn't want the others to have an advantage against me."

She nodded surprisingly in understanding. "And you didn't want to use them 'cus you can't eat beans so you decided to put it to better use."

"Made them into powder and put it into the food supply. Now they're dispensed of," Malachi finished.

Bra gave a short chuckle. "The man who plans to 'destroy the world' takes time out of his life to help out complete strangers. They don't work for terminal illnesses though," she said realizing his intentions. "From where I sit, you don't seem all that terrible. As caring as my friends and family are, they've never thought to give it to those less fortunate."

"Did you come here to annoy me to death?" Malachi asked with a frown. He'd been staring at her back, but now his eyes had returned to the ceiling. "Once I'm fully recovered—"

"You'll what?" Bra teased. "There's more than just my dad you have to worry about, you know. You really think everyone's simply going to let you get away with it?"

"I told you—I have a plan that would most certainly succeed."

"Care to indulge me?" Bra asked in pleasant tones.

"No," he said singularly.

At that moment, his stomach betrayed him and growled quite loudly—it wasn't exactly something he could control anyhow. She glanced back at him clearly amused.

"Sounds like you haven't eaten in ages. Maybe we should go out and get something—unless you want to cook."

The thought of cooking didn't sound altogether bad, but that would take time. Far more time if he was also going to prepare enough for the three stowaways in the living room. He could barely compose himself to not devour everything before he ever set it out for the others. It sounded like a monumental task and quite unnecessary when he could easily pay someone else to do it for him. In fact, he already had a place in mind.

"Let's just go to a buffet," Malachi said.

"Fine with me," Bra said.

Malachi sat up then and climbed out of bed before making his way over to the children to wake them. He didn't need to. He could have left them right there and they would have been fine. Something told him they were no strangers to taking care of themselves, but there was no real reason to leave them out. At the very least, his mind was not giving him any good reasons. He woke up one of them and the other two followed in suit.

"Hey, get up, let's go get something to eat," he said to the first boy.

The boy's eyes brightened at this and that was all it took for Malachi to decide that he'd made the right decision. Clearly, they appreciated the gesture.

"Really? Where?" the boy asked mystified.

Malachi stood up then. "You'll see when we get there."

* * *

 **Bra had carried the girl and Malachi had taken up the other two as they flew to their destination.** The children were predictably astonished but soon they warmed to the activity and quite enjoyed themselves on the trip there. To their eyes, it must have seemed exactly like a dream. Malachi didn't bother telling them to keep things to themselves—no one would believe them if they blurted out such things without proof. He also did not bother to do anything further to disguise himself. Apparently, his hair now thoroughly curly after taking a shower and letting it air dry was enough of a distraction from his highly recognizable face. Maybe people didn't think someone like Malachi would enter a Chinese buffet no matter how high-end it was. Either way, they found their seats without much trouble.

The kids took up their own booth which was fine with Malachi as he shared one with Bra. The children were unsure on how to proceed before he explained it simply to them: get whatever you want, but one plate at a time. The smell of hot food was intoxicated at this point, but he was able to maintain his composure since he knew he'd have his fill soon enough. He kept his own plate at modest proportions even though he knew he'd be going back several more times.

But Bra took him by surprise. She did not bother with appearances—neither did the kids for that matter—and piled food onto her plate before taking a seat. Then she dug in. So did he, but with forced manners. He used his utensils properly and chewed his food to completion before starting on another morsel.

"Geez, we're going to be here for hours if you're going to keep carrying on like that," Bra teased as she noticed him.

"Maybe I'm trying to set an example," Malachi said back with a frown.

"For who? Those kids back there?" Bra asked tilting her head back indicating the booth behind them.

Malachi could see them easily, pigging out and making a mess at their table. The concept of utensils seemed lost on them. Everything was apparently finger food that night. Bra laughed as she watched him taking in the pitiful scene.

"Unless you want to give them one-on-one lessons about table manners, they could care less what _you're_ doing," Bra said pointing a recently cleaned off fork towards him.

He shook his head slowly as he continued to watch the kids' antics. "Who cares," Malachi said in defeat as he returned to his plate at his own pace.

His own appetite continued to confuse him. Usually one modest helping of food on one plate would have been enough yet he was not at all satisfied when he finally polished off his first plate. Soon it was like he was in competition with Bra for who could eat the most in the shortest amount of time. Bra seemed quite amused by the whole thing much to his wonderment. The kids had already tapped out and they seemed to be playing with their food more than eating it. The two adults confounded the chefs in the back that suddenly had to race to keep the food set out at acceptable levels for their patrons.

Malachi won—he'd secretly been keeping score. Bra sat back in the booth clearly satisfied and Malachi as well.

"I guess you have changed," Bra said after a while. "But it makes sense…with all that extra power you have now."

Then he finally understood. The final piece of information he'd been missing. Maybe that was why he hadn't been recovering as quickly as he thought he should—he'd been starving himself all along. However, that didn't explain Bra. "And what about you? You decided to start training all of a sudden?"

"No," she said shaking her head and then averting her gaze.

"Just tell me then—don't keep me in suspense. You've been sick lately and now this—what's going on?"

She sighed and then glanced at the children before looking at him. "I'm pregnant."

Malachi was mute for a long time after just staring at her as if he'd turned into a statue. His thoughts ceased all at once. The noise around him lessened and disappeared. Then he felt like he was floating off to space.

"Malachi?" he heard her voice call out. "Malachi—Earth to Malachi," she said a little louder waving a hand in front of his face.

"Uh…yes?" he finally managed to respond though dumbly. He blinked twice.

"Are you okay? Are you mad?"

"No-no, of course not," Malachi said as he stood up. Bra's eyes followed him worriedly as he came around the table and sat down right next to her. They were sitting shoulder to shoulder now. "Sorry, I was speechless for a moment."

She took a hold of his hand and then pressed it against her stomach. "You can't feel anything now, but our daughter or son is there. I went to the doctor and they confirmed. I hope you're not angry with me for not telling you sooner."

"I'm not angry," he said. He watched as she breathed a sigh of relief.

"We never talked about having children…" she said looking up at him. "I don't know what would happen if we ever had them…How would things change?" she began to ramble.

"I would spoil him or her to death because I wouldn't have the heart to deny them anything and hope that they turn out decently somehow. Then I'd leave the hard stuff for you."

Bra punched him playfully on the shoulder. "You're a terrible father."

Malachi snorted at this. "And you would make a far better mother."

"But," Bra said in quieter tones, "None of that can happen if there's no world left to do it on."

He pulled back from her suddenly and snatched his hand away from her grasp, climbing abruptly out of the booth. Bra looked up at him in surprise with his sudden shift in demeanor.

"It's getting late—we should go before they kick us out."

He didn't wait for an answer as he moved over to the other table as well. The children were passed out by now. He had to shake them to wakefulness. The boy who had handed him the plate of chicken and rice looked at him happily and Malachi scowled at this—it did nothing to dampen their moods.

"I've never seen such unruly, messy kids," he snapped at them.

"Oh, sorry, Dadd—um, mister," the boy said quickly correcting himself. "I'll be way neater next time."

"Next time?" Malachi scoffed.

It was then that Bra appeared beside him placing a hand on his shoulder. He didn't bother looking towards her.

"Don't mind him—he's just a little tired," Bra said in happier tones. "You guys ready to head back?"

The three nodded towards them. Malachi turned from them with a huff. He stiffened a little when Bra took a hold of one of his hands to get his attention.

"You're not gonna let _me_ carry all of them, right?"

"Of course not," he said grudgingly.

In fact, Malachi decided to carry all of them; the girl on his back and the other two in his arms despite Bra's protest. In the end, he simply did not want her doing anything extraneous. He told himself he shouldn't care whether she strained herself or not—it mattered little to his goals. Once again, his own mind became unfathomable. His thoughts were arguing back and forth and he found he no longer wanted to pay attention to it.

Go home. Rest. Recover. Commence his plans with all urgency. He ordered the children to clean themselves up and waited for them to finish before he too followed in suit. All the while Bra said nothing to him. She did speak with the children—she seemed to get along quite well with them, in fact. He hadn't bothered with asking for their names but she managed to get it out of them. The oldest boy who was likely the ringleader and had given him the plate of food in the first place was named Avant. The girl's name was Brandi and the boy who was the youngest one was Kendrick.

The lights were cut off and the kids made themselves comfortable on the plush couches in the living room. Malachi had commenced upon cleaning the kitchen at which point, Bra wordlessly helped him. Then after half an hour, he started on the bathroom and Bra helped him as well. They were well spent by the time they were finished. Yet Bra did not follow him to bed. She sat on the side of it just as she had done earlier that day.

"Why are you so quiet?" Malachi asked finally breaking the tense silence.

"You've been sending me mixed messages all day. What are you even doing out here? Let's just go home, your _real_ home."

"I can't," Malachi said after a long pause.

"Why not? Are you afraid you might actually like things as they are already? I don't fully understand what's happened to you, but I think I can live with it. You're still you as far as I'm concerned."

"I just…" He couldn't even begin to finish his thought. His mind was far too jumbled. "Will you stay here with me tonight?"

"Sorry," she said shaking her head. "Even if I wanted to, my father would come looking for me. He thinks I'm at home recovering from my nausea."

"Does he know already?"

"Everyone knew besides you."

"Oh…I see."

"I may not be able to stay here, but you can come see me anytime. No one's stopping you."

"You know I can't do that," Malachi said with a frown when she stood up.

"All you have to do is explain yourself. My parents might be a little crazy, but all they want is to make sure I'm safe. I think you can handle that if you really wanted to see me." She looked at him a moment longer and then turned. "Goodbye, Malachi. Don't keep me waiting for too long—you know I hate that."

She stalked off and soon disappeared into the evening sky. At least, he assumed she did as he was sure she'd arrived that way. His mind remained utterly consumed with confusing thoughts for hours following and he fell asleep hoping to gain some insight after a night's rest.

By the time the next morning rolled around, the children were gone as if they hadn't been there at all and he woke to the now familiar pangs of hunger, but it wasn't nearly as striking as yesterday. The night had been kind to him this time and he felt fully rested. The morning sun was bright and his mind was finally calm and clear. There was no more confusion left to weaken his resolve.

He would destroy this world and all that occupied it.

* * *

 **AN:** Let the bloodbath begin, I guess. (Also, good luck with that, Malachi) I'm having way too much writing this.

 **WineIXI** **:** Just for you, I will add two page breakers. To be fair though, last chapter was pretty short.

 **maximusrexmundi** **:** You ask and I answer. That's really the main reason I switch around POVs just so some details could be explained. I'd planned to have it exclusively in Vegeta's POV, but realized that I couldn't tell the whole story that way. Vegeta would probably never know specifically how he broke out the device, but might deduce from the exchange he heard between Bulma and Laputa that it was a device he'd seen before and could easily break out of. On Malachi knowing about senzu beans, he might assume it was something Bra told him about in passing from the way he'd seen them discussing things casually in the past.

 **WildHeart44** **:** Hmm…Maybe. Yeah, Vegeta hitting everyone up on their cell brought a grin to my face as I was writing it in all seriousness. I don't know how he does it, but Toriyama always managed to avoid that scenario despite having so many side characters. Everybody is just where they need to be at the right time.


	21. Malachi's Marvelous Modus Operandi

Malachi glided through the air gleeful about what the day promised. It was a feeling that he certainly approved us now that he'd experienced it to its fullness. He could hardly imagine a life without such an emotion. Things that were once dull was bright. His own life became one that he cherished more and more.

He'd spoken to Majuub at length at the party. He lived a humble life in a village that he was born into and had found joy in subsistence farming. He lived in a world apart from the modern world and he described it as peaceful and fulfilling. Majuub had told him where his village was located in great detail and had welcomed his visit should the need arise. Malachi grinned at the irony. At the very least, such information would be put to good use.

Though he had never come to Majuub for assistance in learning new fighting techniques, he knew him to be a capable fighter. Yamcha had told him of his origin—he was a reincarnation of an enemy that had nearly wiped out everyone. He was a force to be reckoned with and he was first on his list of people to remove from the playing field.

The village was easily missable, but Malachi eventually found the place. He touched down on the fertile ground and proceeded to entering the village's limits. There wasn't much to see. Simple hut houses dotted the land in no particular order and Malachi noticed others of similar skin tone to Majuub milling about. His ki senses though terrible could at least pinpoint the strongest nearby ki signature which Malachi assumed belonged to the person he was looking for. The signature resided on the outcrops of the village which was just as well—Malachi would rather speak to him on his own. Unconcerned about drawing attention, he simply glided through the village with his feet just above the ground.

When Malachi spotted him, he knew the other was training himself as he continued to perform a specific sequence of fighting movements—an attack of some kind, but slowed down.

"Majuub," Malachi said plainly when he was close enough.

His presence noticeably startled the other—he'd been wholly focused on his training. Then his surprise turned quickly defensive as his stance changed into one that suggested he was ready to attack.

"Vegeta warned me about you," he said with a frown.

"Did he now?" Malachi said teasingly with a pleasant smile. "He warned you about how I was going to beat you down to a bloody pulp? You look surprisingly confident for such a bleak future."

"You're already starting to get on my nerves," Majuub said as a pink aura instantly sprouted around him. "I'll put an end to this right now."

Majuub sped towards him without further ado and Malachi easily evaded his obvious attack. Majuub quickly doubled back only to be met with the same result and Malachi hadn't even broken a sweat.

"I hope this isn't what I have to look forward to," Malachi teased.

Majuub growled at this and then advanced towards the other again. This time Malachi decided to meet him head on and finally fists were thrown along with some kicks. They did not remain grounded. Malachi purposefully matched the other's level so that he could better understand his technique. Bored, he threw his next punch a split second faster than the other and sent the other falling towards the ground. Majuub was hardly winded enough to actually allow himself to land on the ground and instantly sped back towards Malachi who once again evaded his advances. Then after a minute more of the same advancing and evading, the two separated and stood still in midair.

"Looks like this won't be as easy as I thought. You're stronger than you were at the tournament," Majuub said.

"I could destroy you right now, but it would give me no pleasure," Malachi said with crossed arms. "Bore me again and see what happens."

"You talk a big game for someone who's just evading my attacks," Majuube retorted.

Majuub was powering up now and this time Malachi felt his power level increasing exponential. The wind had picked up and the ground began to rumble as his muscles began to enlarge. It was quite interesting to watch, far more of a spectacle than Trunks' quick Super Saiyan transformation. Majuub didn't exactly transform into a completely different looking person, he did feel and appear more formidable as his pink aura sparked around his muscular form.

Malachi knew he couldn't simply dodge as Majuub tore through the air towards him. The increase in attack power was staggering as Malachi found himself blocking as well as dishing out his own attacks. When he had enough, Malachi quickly unleashed his aura for a moment to push the other back.

"Good, you've started to take this seriously," Malachi said when he was given some room to breathe.

Then Malachi finally brought forth his aura to increase his own attack power. The gray mist of his ki rolled off his skin and rose into the air as gradually as steam from hot liquid. It was near invisible and not nearly as eye-catching or spectacular as Majuub's power up. Though it did not look like much, Malachi was now far more powerful than he'd ever been before. He watched as the other curiously staggered back, but regained his composure. Malachi wondered if that was from the sheer increase of his own power, but that didn't seem right.

They matched each other's speed now with each blow that was dealt. Malachi began to see the other's pattern and used this to his advantage as he opened up his palm to Malachi's incoming punch. He gripped Majuub's hand before applying more pressure, but just before he could begin breaking bones, Majuub ripped his hand out of his grip in anger. Malachi laughed at the other's antics only irking him even more.

"I won't make this easy for you!" Majuub shouted as he flew higher in the air.

He powered up even more as he began to concentrate his energy in the palm of his hands preparing to establish a powerful ki blast. From the looks of things, Malachi supposed that it was one he thought would end this fight. He was so very predictable in Malachi's mind as he could practically read his moves before he ever did them. He wondered if he should allow him to get off the blast. Then he decided a split second later that he should not.

Malachi shot through the sky towards his position and rammed his fist into the other's guts with as much force as he could muster in a short time. His fist had not met with any opposition, only flesh and Majuub was left gasping for breath and pushed back a few inches.

"Of course _you'd_ do something like that," Majuub said hoarsely, "Too cowardly to face me head to head."

"I'm cowardly?" Malachi said with a short chuckle. "Maybe I just didn't think it was time for any major ki blasts. Or maybe I remember your ability to turn people into chocolate."

Majuub frowned at this. "I have more than one trick up my sleeves."

"As do I," Malachi said back. "But you're beginning to bore me again. How serious are you taking this?"

"Why do you keep asking me that? I know what you plan to do and I won't let you."

Malachi lifted himself even higher in the air. "Then let me see your resolve."

He moved into the stance that Vegeta had taught him as he began to conjure a massive Galick Gun. Malachi took great pains to continue to hide his ki in the same breath and it became exponentially harder as his energy became concentrated. An almost blinding light appeared in his palms just as he felt Majuub powering up his own energy blast. Malachi knew what his next move would be based on the other's actions. Once he was ready to unleash his blast, he held it in his palms awaiting the moment that Majuub would launch his.

A pink wave shot towards him from Majuub, but Malachi merely positioned himself quickly out of reach. He'd been prepared to do so in the first place. His Galick Gun was not meant for Majuub, but for the poor village below him. Before Majuub even knew what was happening, Malachi finally launched his amped up Galick Gun and it soared menacingly through the air. Majuub realized the other's intentions far too late to make a difference. Despite this, Majuub still attempted to chase and deflect the blast. Majuub wound up being caught in the blast itself as he shouted out hysterically for the villagers to get out of the way.

Malachi was amused with the other's terror as he pointlessly shouted in warning before being cut-off by the blast making impact. There before him was destruction in its purest form: beautiful and absolute. Nothing was left besides the rubble. Something about it's sight seemed peaceful—this was what he was meant to do. This glorious feeling that he could now bask in made it all quite worthwhile.

Tears were in Majuub's eyes as he gazed angrily back at Malachi. "I will kill you!" he yelled at him passionately, his voice as rough as shards of glass. "I will _kill_ you—do you understand!?" Even as he did this, he'd begun powering up at an intensity that impressed Malachi.

His clear passion now made Malachi's mouth curve upward as he waited in anticipation for the other's eventual assault. "Only loss can make you stronger," he said aloud not particularly caring if the other heard through his pained cries. "I've given you more character than your pathetic past self could ever hope to achieve."

"I will show you loss," Majuub's voice echoed in the skies.

Majuub's next attacks came at a startling pace and for once, Malachi was forced on the defensive. He'd expected this too and Malachi took the other's assault cordially as he effectively blocked Majuub's incoming kicks and punches. It was a puzzle game that had just advanced to hard mode and Malachi loved the challenge. He intently focused on his defensive responses to Majuub's physical attacks knowing that the other would soon burn himself out if he kept up like this for long. Their speed made it appear as if the entire thing happened in quick sections as they fazed in and out of impossible speeds.

Majuub pulled a fast one and threw out a pink chocolate beam that Malachi was just barely able to dodge and was forced to move out of the attack's path. Malachi was finally beginning to tire now as he stood apart from the other for a brief moment. Malachi was not given a chance to rest, however, as Majuub advanced on him without exchanging any words. His focus was singular and he seemed to be in some other world.

The time in which Malachi thought the other would tire did not occur and he began to worry. Steadily, he increased his own power output as the battle dragged on until he was able to successfully pull off a hefty uppercut after two failed attempts. In each one, Malachi had put a substantial amount of energy behind it so the one that struck sent the other flying back, but only a little.

Majuub appeared unfazed by the whole thing as his aura raged intently around the other in renewed fervor.

"You really think you can win," Malachi stated with a grin.

"Shut-up and keep fighting!" Majuub yelled as he shot back through the air.

The longevity of their tussle took Malachi off guard as even his defense began to wane and he began to eat quite a few hefty blows from Majuub. Each one he received was layered with anger and vengeance and a desperate need to do him in. His intensity was sustained and one that Malachi could no longer take so lightly.

Malachi began to tap into more of his power and it took a tremendous effort to keep it hidden from his foe. He needed this now so that he could bring it all to a close. That was when the other paused in midpunch and then fell to the ground in what seemed like sudden weakness. Malachi looked on a bit confused with the scene, but he supposed it made sense somewhat.

"Malachi, what have you done?" a very familiar voice barked at him.

He turned to Vegeta who had either just arrived or had been there the whole time. Vegeta was not alone, however. Krillin, 18, Tien, Pan, Gohan, and Goten were with him and they all looked quite devastated with the damage they saw around them.

"Nice of you to finally show up," Malachi said. "You and your friends. Who knows? I might have accidently destroyed the planet in the time it took you to find me."

"Geez, you weren't kidding, Vegeta, that guy is totally out of his mind," Krillin said.

Malachi turned his gaze to the human who'd just spoken. Within a split second, he created a razor thin disc out of his ki and sent it straight for him. With so many onlookers, Malachi didn't expect for it to hit, but it came remarkably close were it not for Vegeta's quick thinking as he threw his own ki blast to collide with it.

"Stand down, Malachi," Vegeta said, "What do you hope to achieve against all of us at once."

"You wound me, Vegeta, pitting me against all of you at the same time. Would it not be more entertaining with one-on-one fights or are you all too weak to handle a fair fight?"

Just then, Majuub's form began to move on the ground as he struggled to climb back to his fight.

"We'll take it from here," Vegeta said to the clearly spent warrior.

"No!" he shouted angrily, "He's mine!" he cried as he was able to bring forth his pink aura once again much to everyone's surprise—his ki signature was weak now. Then it vanished once again as he fell to his knees in pain. He still struggled against this, his cries strangled and pitiful.

Vegeta descended to the ground where Majuub was still on his knees. "Stand up," he ordered the other.

Confused momentarily, Majuub looked up at the other and then climbed to his feet. Then in an instant, Vegeta cleanly knocked the other out with a crisp punch to the guts. In this time, as the other's attention was on Vegeta, Malachi quietly began to concentrate a massive amount of energy into his finger which then formed into a deceptively small sphere of energy. He didn't draw attention to himself. He warned no one of his next move as he sent it forth.

Malachi didn't even bother visually watching the blast make impact before he was flying off into the distance, but he could hear as the explosion went off and the backlash of wind. Hiding his presence and slipping away was a technique he'd perfected over the years. In fact, he always kept enough energy in reserve for just this one trick as he more often than not found himself outnumbered. Seemed most people didn't take kindly to his tendency to destroy things. He kept low to the ground and flew in a direction opposite of his capsule house.

The proximity and strength of the blast had the potential to incapacitate them all. Only the ones whose was quick enough to either move out of the blast's epicenter or shield themselves would fare the best. He imagined Vegeta would have been shielding himself as well as Majuub from the blast being so close to him. The others? Well, perhaps 18 remained unscathed. He had no idea nor did he particularly care right then. He noticed that Trunks was strangely missing from their group, but perhaps he'd simply been busy. There was a fair amount of them out there anyway. The turnout allowed him to see his real opposition and they all seemed pitiful compared to Vegeta. Later, when he was ready, he would check to see who was in the greatest shape and finish them off one by one from there. He would save his favorite for last. Only then would he destroy the planet. Usually, he did not bother with fighting others individually, but the excitement he drew from it was addicting and difficult to disregard.

Traveling at such a relaxed speed so that he did not have to put so much effort into hiding his ki signature would take him much longer to reach his destination.

"Malachi!" Vegeta's voice rang out clearly.

He stopped abruptly in his tracks and hid behind a nearby tree hoping that the other had not seen him.

"You can't hide from me!"

There was no way Malachi could face him in his condition. His only course of action was to escape from his sights. That instant transmission move would have been perfect at this moment, but that was still a mystery and he was not brave enough at the moment to experiment with it. He felt the ground beneath him tremble and the exploding sounds of ki blasts. Vegeta had no idea where he was, but he was wantonly throwing ki blasts. Malachi knew now in what direction Vegeta was so he continued away from him, but much slower. He stopped every time he heard ki blasts touching ground. Malachi had to keep reminding himself that there was no way Vegeta could know exactly where he was so long as he gave him no signs. When all was quiet, he stopped moving and waited for the other's next move. He waited for quite some time and watched as the sun crawled across the sky. Hours must have passed before Malachi felt safe enough to keep moving. He remained close to the ground.

Eventually, he doubled back taking a different path. It was all he could do just to maintain flight. Though it had had been close to the afternoon when his fight began with Majuub, it wasn't until late evening when he stumbled back into his home. He managed not to make it to his bed before he was sprawled on the living room floor and closing his eyes in exhaustion. He briefly noted the presence of the children, but he paid them no mind.

When he woke up to hunger pangs, he found himself in his bed and bandaged as well. He grunted as he sat up. His muscles felt sore and worn from his previous exertion, but the bruises that Majuub had left on his body was particularly throbbing. It reminded him of the condition he'd be in after soldiering through an entire concert and the sweet pain his well worked muscles felt after the incredible exertion. He'd gotten used to this feeling and even looked forward to it. Though this time was far more intense than he'd ever felt before, it was still oddly comforting, but that did not stop him from cursing at the pain as he began to move.

Avant approached him seeing his wakefulness. He looked worried. "Hope you don't mind, I bandaged you up 'cus you looked like you were dying—are you okay?"

Malachi smiled only briefly at the other. "I wasn't dying. I simply underestimated the power of anger and was soundly beaten for my troubles." This did not ease the other's concern as his expression did not change. "I'll be fine, kid." Malachi inspected the other's work as he lifted his shirt to look see his lower torso. "Where did you learn to do that so well?" he asked.

"My dad's the village's doctor—the only doctor for miles."

"Is that right?" Malachi said with mild surprise. "You're not nearly as poor as I thought then."

"Yeah, well, hardly anyone has money to pay and my dad never refuses anyone and people take advantage," he said looking away.

"I see," Malachi said taking this moment to stand up.

"Woh, woh, you sure it's okay for you to be doing that?" Avant asked.

"I'll be fine," he found himself saying again, but he moved slowly towards the kitchen area. "Where are the other two?"

"I told them to leave 'cus it was getting late and that I'd make sure you were fine."

"How thoughtful," he said in a tone somewhere between sincerity and sarcasm.

Once Malachi made it to the kitchen and saw how spotless it was, he realized that the kids had not done anything in it since last time. He hadn't expected that. In fact, he was prepared to clean things up a bit before making something for himself. He started on cooking soon after with no further comment to Avant. He didn't make anything fancy, just a lot of spaghetti and meatball though enhanced with vegetables and parmesan. He made an appropriate plate for Avant and then the rest for himself.

When the two of them sat at the table, Avant was clearly amused with him as he took down the entire heaping plate of saucy noodles.

"You should enter one of those eating contests—I bet you'd win," Avant commented.

"Yeah, well, I'd hardly make it two feet in without being trampled by—" He paused before he said 'adoring fans' just in case the other might actually recognize him. Either the child was out of touch with popular culture or his "disguise" was working quite well. Tolerating the relationship they had, he decided not to push his luck. The boy looked at him a little confused when he didn't finish his sentence, however.

Malachi took up his plate and his own deciding to let the matter rest. He washed them meticulously in the sink before placing them in the drying rack. By the time he finished, the boy was no longer in the dining room. He found him on the living room floor flicking through TV channels. Malachi took a seat on the couch and watched as the other had no idea what to watch.

"Want to listen to some music?" Malachi asked to the bored child.

"Hm, I guess…" he replied.

Malachi had placed his phone on the table next to the couch earlier that day before he'd left. Now he took it in hand so that he could rummage through his substantial music collection. When he stumbled across what he wanted, he then connected his phone with the TV so that the sound would come from it.

The familiar sounds of the piano along with the base marked the beginning of one of Malachi's favorite songs from Bobby Caldwell. His voice sounded so effortless as it melded perfectly with the jazziness of the song. Caldwell had remarkable control over the tone of his voice and could transform it into something unrecognizable. In his long career, he'd done his fair share of musical experimentation, but here, Malachi believed, he was at his finest.

He could sit and listen to music for hours, randomly shifting through old and new music alike. Now that his phone was in hand, he began to scroll through the plethora of messages his fans would send him from e-mail to social media. There was no way he could ever look at them all, but he attempted to anyway. The one's he did not get to were left to those that were paid specifically to do that sort of thing.

He became lost in his phone as hours rolled by. Malachi had only lifted his head when he heard Avant perusing a nearby shelf that contained board games and puzzle books. He settled on a Sudoku book before returning to his spot on the carpeted floor.

Eventually, Malachi called it a night having exhausted two different music playlists. Avant was still there surprisingly. When Malachi switched off the music assuming the other wouldn't like having it on while he tried to sleep, Avant let out a short "aww" indicating he preferred the opposite.

"Here," Malachi said handing the kid his phone, "Pick what you want to listen to."

Malachi had access to an extensive list of music through a premium music streaming service. Avant took the phone timidly and then looked back up at him for confirmation.

"Don't worry—it won't bother me," Malachi said.

He retired to his bed as Avant began fiddling with the device. Malachi didn't hear any music being played until he was halfway asleep. It was a song he'd heard many times as it was quite popular now. Avant had likely picked the one that appeared first on the home page. Then moments before he was fully asleep, he could have sworn he heard his own voice, but it was only a fleeting thought as he passed out.

* * *

 **AN:** First off, let me just apologize to all those Majuub fans out there wherever you are.

I just want to point out that Malachi has no idea that something about his ki has an effect on those in close proximity. Vegeta will likely never tell him and most might not put two and two together. Note here, Malachi pretty much reached his limit fighting Majuub. Anyways, get ready for the next fight which will be far more elaborate than this one and has taken me _forever_ to write. Will Malachi continue in his unprecedented winning streak or will it all end here?—find out in the next chapter.

 **maximusrexmundi** **:** Right? Those senzu beans with its miraculous properties probably could have been the basis for even more breakthroughs in science especially medicine. I like to think it was because she was an engineer and not particularly in the medical field which are two pretty different disciplines.

Okay, so my take on it is that Vegeta can just power up to SS4. Goku was able to do it after he transformed for the first time. When he fought Nuova Shenron, he just powered up to reach that level again. The thing is, though, he had a tail already and he could also already turn SS3. Vegeta never has a reason to transform again into SS4 after the first time he achieved it so we really have no idea if he can just power up. To be fair though, SS3 kinda seems like an optional transformation. Vegeta still hasn't done this canonically but can turn SS4 and even SS God SS Blue (whatever it's called). Since I like Vegeta a lot and I believe he's an extremely competent fighter and he's already transformed into SS4, he'll just be able to do it in this story despite not having a tail. If you think about it, using bluntz waves to transform into the Golden Ape doesn't make any sense either unless Bulma improved on the waves' effects by also giving it the ability to grow back tails (or something) because they couldn't do that in the past.


	22. A Painful Meeting With a Pitiful Man

Despite how her day ended a few days ago, Pan still had to show up to work. Being a veterinarian and having just landed a decent job, she couldn't afford to simply miss days, not to mention how busy it was at the center each day. The treatment center offered services that were the most affordable for miles so people flooded to the place. Pan enjoyed the challenge and more than anything she enjoyed working with animals.

From a young age, her father had stressed the importance of education and she discovered that she had a high aptitude for science and mathematics. While she easily excelled in her academics, she still enjoyed other activities that at first didn't seem conducive to her education, namely adventuring and fighting. Adventuring was her first love. She'd travelled the entirety of the world and visited plenty of locales before she was even in high school thanks to her grandfather and being close friends with Bra, the heiress to unimaginable wealth. Her travels hadn't ended there either after sneaking aboard the spaceship with her grandfather and Trunks to seek out the Black Star Dragon Balls. After being exposed to that sort of thing, she knew she'd want to do it again, but with better company.

After a bit of convincing on her part to her parents and Bra's parents and finally Marron's parents, she was able to go on month long escapades into the limitless frontier of space. In the beginning, there'd been supervision alternating between their parents or even all of them at once along with either Bulma or Trunks being there for mechanical support. For that reason alone, Pan also began to study mechanical engineering until she was proficient enough to care for Capsule Corp space vehicles. She also had to prove that she could take care of herself encouraging her to never neglect training. Her grandfather had begun training her at 4 years of age. After his departure, her father had continued in that vein. Eventually she surpassed him, though such achievements weren't much to write home about considering how out-of-practice she knew her father to be according to accounts from both her mother and Vegeta's snide remarks any time they shared a room. They didn't consider her proficient enough in combat until she was able to take on Vegeta without getting knocked out immediately— _that_ was an achievement to take pride in. She'd only gotten stronger since then.

Around the time when she would be considered a junior in high school, she was officially able to take her two closest friends with her on trips through space without any adult supervision—she considered those times to be the most exciting. They'd stayed out there for almost two years before returning home and they'd met quite a few different alien species and gotten in their fair share of trouble. Marron wasn't much of a fighter and Bra was only a little better. By in large, however, it had been a peaceful two years which they had gotten to know each other far more than ever before.

Despite the charms of adventuring, however, she'd began to feel homesick near the end and when they finally returned to Earth, she was more than ready to start her life anew. She didn't need to continue her education or pursue a career. Being friends with the heiress meant that she could have lived her life just as carefree as her, only doing things that sparked her interest for a moment and then moving on. They were practically sisters. At some point, they either called or went over to each other's houses every day. Though they seemed like opposites, they found commonality in each other. Were it not for Bra, she'd be far rougher around the edges and have no clue about such girly things as makeup or how to always have the upper hand when it came to dating.

She'd chosen to become a veterinarian because she knew she'd enjoy it and she could amass her own wealth. She planned to eventually start her own veterinarian business and then retire. Even with her increase of responsibilities as she'd gone to college, she always found time to train and stay primed for any danger that Earth might encounter—her grandfather had instilled that in her and she'd taken that to heart. With the help of Bulma, she'd built her own gravity chamber to train in on a regular basis.

Currently, she was dating no one as her last boyfriend had gone the way of all the others—too clingy. It was her lunch break and she went to her usual coffee shop to order her favorite panini and tea. If the weather was nice, she sat outside and it was quite sunny that day. After a bit of waiting, her order was brought out and she walked outside to look for a seat. Today was a bit crowded, but that was to be expected. Her eyes spotted an empty table in the back with only two chairs. As she made her way there, however, she froze in her tracks when she heard a very familiar voice.

"Pan, fancy seeing you here today."

Her head turned and beheld Malachi. She could tell it was him immediately just from his voice, but the well-defined curls of his dark hair caught her off guard and was quite a departure from his usual silky, straight hair; it was probably why no one recognized him. But he appeared no less handsome in her opinion. She'd gotten a hold of his music early on in life and she'd forced everyone she knew to listen as well. Radio stations overplayed his songs and anytime he came out with a new album she'd either buy it herself or someone she knew would gift it to her for her birthday, Christmas or just because.

Though she knew he couldn't be trusted especially after the stunt he pulled yesterday, it was hard to shake her past image of him and she had no control over her burning cheeks. He looked well despite his previous fight with Majuub as if it hadn't presented too much of a challenge for him. She sat down at the table he occupied—a two-person's table like the one she'd been headed to before.

"What are you doing here?" Pan asked immediately.

"Isn't it obvious?" he said clearly amused by her question. "To do to you what was done to Majuub. How are the others by the way? Majuub seemed in bad shape—he could not have fared well."

It was strange hearing the words come out of his mouth so pleasantly, but she knew he was nothing but. His speaking voice always reminded her of honey poured over a warm biscuit—sweet and savory and a few octaves lower than his usual singing voice. It seemed to rumble deep from his chest all of which did nothing for the permanent redness of her cheeks. At the very least, her eyebrows were furrowed in disgust.

"Why would you care? You're the one who put him in that condition," Pan retorted.

"Humor me," he replied nonchalantly.

Pan sighed. "Majuub is…he's in critical condition. He ran out of energy. Vegeta gave him some of his so that he could survive; he protected him from that blast. My father and uncle…" she turned away for a moment but then looked back at him with a determined expression. "They'll be fine."

"Hm, I see. Less for me to worry about," he replied just as pleasantly.

"You have me to worry about," she said with a frown, "And that's enough."

"Oh? You'll give me a real challenge then?"

Her food was getting cold, but she barely felt like eating it with danger being in such proximity. Not to mention his pension for destroying innocent bystanders.

"We don't have to do this—we don't have to do any of this. You know Bra—you remember her right?"

"Of course I do," he said with irritation reaching his tone.

"She's carrying your child." He remained expressionless after she said this, no reaction at all as she stared at the other waiting for a surprised realization on his part.

Finally an eyebrow rose, "Is that supposed to change things?"

" _Yes_ ," Pan almost shouted, "That makes you a father and no matter how hard you try to pretend like you don't—you have to care."

This seemed to anger him a bit as his mouth became square. "I don't have to feel anything for that fetus or anyone else for that matter. She will simply die like the rest of this planet."

"Say what you want, but being a father is a responsibility that even you can't shake."

"Do you hear yourself right now? You sound like a naïve little girl."

"What are you talking about?"

His subtle smile had all but disappeared. "Children get abandoned routinely, some are left in dumpsters never to see the light of day, some are killed off from those who got tired of hearing them cry. Single mothers raise their child on their own with little help from anyone. So, no, feeling something for another isn't mandatory, it is a choice. Being biologically related isn't enough to be called a father."

Pan realized as his voice darkened that she must have pressed the wrong button. She'd been trying to talk him down, but had only succeeded in doing the opposite. It was easy to forget about his sordid beginnings. No one saw him like that and it was hardly ever mentioned, effectively erased from his squeaky-clean heartthrob image.

"But," he began in thoughtful tones, "Even if I showed her leniency, spared her life so that my family lived, she would miss the ones who were lost—her connection to her loved ones is simply too strong. She would hate me and she would be under immense emotional pain even more so in the state that she is. Under such stress for an extended amount of time would surely lead to complications in her pregnancy, even death. Her survival would not benefit my goals in the least—better to disregard her completely."

Pan simply stared as he spoke of her as if she was part of some equation rather than someone he actually cared about. Surely that had to be because of the creature's presence. Quite frankly she was flabbergasted by his state of mind. "You could avoid all of that—I don't get _why_ you have to destroy this planet. Wouldn't it just be easier if you just…abandoned the whole thing?"

"No, it is what I was meant to do. Not going through with it would be denying my very existence."

Pan shook her head in confusion.

"You still don't understand. Don't feel bad, it's a response I get from everyone."

"Well, maybe if you explained yourself better…" Pan began, but she stopped as the other stood up.

"I am going to enjoy beating you down to a bloody pulp. We can either do this here or a place of your choosing."

Pan honestly couldn't believe the words he was saying. Malachi, the man who had been a part of her life even before she'd ever met him and had been heavily dating her best friend was now threatening her life as if it was a normal thing to do. Life could truly be a strange place. She finally stood up as well. "Follow me."

Completely leaving her food untouched, she led him away from the eyes of the public and then took off into the skies. She'd travelled about the world quite a bit from a very young age and already knew of a few places where a fight could safely take place without harming people uninvolved. That he was even giving her such a choice was odd but she'd take it without question. She found a deserted island and touched down there.

"Malachi!" Pan shouted across the distance he now stood from her clearly ready to take her on, "I'm sorry that it had to turn out like this and I'm sorry that no one was there for you as a child, but—"

Malachi shot towards her without giving her a chance to finish and dished out the first hit as his fist connected with the side of her face throwing her sideways, but she easily rolled back to her feet. It was obvious that he was done talking, but she refused to believe that he couldn't be reasoned with for Bra's sake.

She could tell that he desperately wanted to be on the offensive as he hardly gave her time to retaliate. His movements were so predictable that she didn't even bother being on the defensive in response. Instead, she struck him several times until she dished one out strong enough to send him flying. He didn't catch himself, he simply crash landed into the ground. She wondered if that was intentional being so early in the fight, but she waited anyway for him to recover. She couldn't quite determine his strength and she didn't want to accidently kill him.

"We don't have to do this!" Pan shouted down to the crater still filled with a cloud of dust.

He shot through the dust like a bullet and Pan almost didn't see it, but she easily evaded his flurry of attacks. Frustration seemed reflected in the way he attacked as he tried to connect his hits by any means necessary, but his form was riddled with inexperience. She sent him flying again, but he was tenacious. He responsively adapted to her fighting style bit by bit as he seemed to notice a pattern in her fighting style. When he was finally able to land a few blows, she knew he was actively trying to counter her moves. Still, there was a plethora of physical fighting moves she'd learned in her years of training so when Malachi became too comfortable with her frequented moves, she'd switch to others and thus always keeping herself a step ahead of him.

Still, it was quite a workout. Malachi would throw ki blasts into the mix arbitrarily completely throwing her off guard and forcing her to separate from him, but she would not be baited into a ki battle. Pan knew she held an advantage with hand-to-had combat.

"You should quit now while you still can—I've barely gotten started," Pan said to Malachi who'd just returned from another hard hit.

"Right when I was starting to enjoy myself? You jest," he replied with a brief grin.

He looked more than a little roughed up with rips seen throughout his clothing and his face dirtied with so many hard landings into the ground. She hadn't seen it before, but now she noticed a clear mist rising about him languidly.

"Besides, I'm learning so much from you," he said further before dashing towards her again.

His intensity had increased two-fold right before her eyes—had he powered up? It certainly seemed that way when she found herself actually breaking a sweat to keep him at bay. She was able to grab ahold of his arm and swing him around rapidly in the air. When she let go, however, she realized a second too late that he was now holding onto her and sent a ki blast pointblank into her face pushing her back quite a bit. Her hair was more than a little ruffled from that stunt. More ki blasts were sent her way and she deflected them before drawing near him again to engage in more hand-to-hand combat.

She was on the offensive, but was no longer landing hits as she had in the beginning. He was evading all of them, she realized with a start. Then just like that, she was taking hits after hits. She parried a few of his incoming fists to move back into the offensive, but it was becoming much more difficult to do so. She'd land two successful body shots and then be forced back into defense with his unrelenting attacks in response. She found an opening easily and exploited it again for all his tenacity, this time across the face and she made sure to add a good amount of force behind it so much so that he was partially dizzy from it. She took advantage and followed up with a high swinging kick and a few more solid punches to send him pummeling to the ground for the umpteenth time.

A split-second later, a massive ki blast was sent her way. She decided to take it on knowing that she certainly had more energy to spare than the other. She powered up her own ki blast of equal strength as she flew back a few yards to pull it off successfully. Then she was pumping quite a bit of her ki to push his back. The struggle didn't last long. In fact, she was immediately suspicious with the huge explosion that took place below her. With eyes searching for any trace of him, she was able to discern his presence behind her just in time to evade and send a devastating knee into his guts much to his obvious surprise. Then she sent a tornado of fists into every inch of his body. She'd most certainly drawn blood as he quickly withdrew from her reach.

He seemed vulnerable as he wiped the blood away from his mouth and his clothes looked in worse condition, but he did not wear a look of defeat and the frustration from before was no longer present. His eyes were alight with excitement as he moved into a fighting stance that mirrored her own. More mist flowed around him snaking into the air.

"I see you like my fighting style," Pan said as she watched the other.

"Imitation is the best form of flattery as they say," Malachi replied.

"My grandfather taught me long ago when I was barely able to talk and then my father continued it. It would be my pleasure to pass such knowledge onto you, but there are far easier and less punishing ways to do so than trial and error." For the first time, she could see hesitancy in his countenance perhaps indicating some internal debate—or maybe that was too much to ask for. "And that's only a small fraction of what Earth could offer you. Even someone like you who may not have a home could make one here."

"The universe is vast. Despite my long years of travel, there is still much I've never explored. Combat is certainly not something unique to this planet."

"Even so, you would destroy it before ever taking the time find out more? Once it's gone, it's gone for good including all our knowledge."

"Is that not the beauty of it? The finality of annihilation. Inescapable. Inevitable."

"Tell me—is there really any beauty in being alone, no one to verbalize your thoughts to, and having only yourself to keep occupied?"

"Clearly human needs—I have no use for them. I've never had any use for them."

"But you _are_ human with those same needs whether you believe it or not. I just...hope you never have to find out the hard way." Then her fists clenched as her determination grew. "No, you won't ever find out like that because I'm going to stop you here."

"Then why don't you finish me off? I know you can ascend yet you hold back."

"Hah, you can barely keep up with me now—you have to earn that privilege. Besides, my goal isn't to 'finish you off', it's to make you see reason."

"Then you are on a fool's errand," Malachi said as he immediately soared through the air towards her.

The fight had begun again instantly and Pan noticed a marked increase in his intensity. He'd been holding back too as his speed reached levels in which even she could not follow. She felt a gut-wrenching punch that sent her shooting towards the ground before she ever saw his incoming punch and it took quite a bit of strength to stop herself from crash landing. She immediately began dodging as Malachi launched a ridiculous amount of ki blast to make sure she fell completely. A few managed to hit home, but she shrugged them off as she shot through air towards him now hoping to reclaim the upper hand.

It was difficult even to get close to him as he launched a million and one ki blasts all at once. Pan thought it was an incredible waste of energy, but she supposed it served its purpose as she was forced to keep her distance and fly further through the air to avoid ki blasts that were now following her in a trail. She stayed ahead only to be bum-rushed by ki blasts bearing towards her from further ahead before she could even register it. She shrank back into the most defensive stance she knew as she protected her head behind upright forearms. By the time she looked up again, her entire view was taken up by the massive surface area of an incoming ki blast. It was too close now to dodge and she had no time to conjure up one that would not be quickly eaten by its massive size. She braced herself and prepared to deflect it skyward.

Her aura flashed around her as her outstretched arms held off the blast. It was pushing her back little by little as she felt its power increasing. Ascending would have made this task a cinch, but she knew that was probably why he was doing this. She would not be forced into doing it—she wanted to transform on her own terms. Determinedly she began to gain a handle on the blast. She wasn't trying to send it back which would require even more energy on her part, but to change its trajectory ever so much to render it harmless. With an aggressive shout as her blue aura now raged around her, she lifted it over her head and the blast continued into the atmosphere.

She was given no moment's rest as she felt a punch connect with the bottom of her chin before she realized he was even there to dish it out and he simply kept coming each punch more devastating than the last until finally she had enough as she cried out in anger and then jumped back from his apparent position. She could barely make him out as he moved too quickly now. She waited for his rain of attacks to continue, but it had ceased abruptly. Cautiously, she looked around until she found him only a few yards in front of her. They were both well above the little island they'd started on.

A triumphant grin sat on the other's face. He knew he'd managed to put her on the ropes. Pan could either continue things as they were, hoping for an opening to show or for the other to tire out, but she knew transforming would be her best option.

"You've made a compelling case," Pan said after a moment. "Do you still think you can defeat me?" she asked edging him on. She'd thought of the perfect plan at that moment.

"That was never a question in my mind," he answered without a second thought.

"Then you have to agree to my terms if I'm to ascend at all and only then."

Malachi made frustrating noises at this letting her know that he had, in fact, been waiting for her to do that one thing. "Then what is it?" he said sharply.

"If I defeat you, you must agree to never destroy Earth and to never harm its denizens in any way."

"Hmph, interesting proposition, but what's in it for me?" Malachi asked.

Pan knew just the thing that would make him bite even if she could never actually do it. Malachi was human after all, possessed or not. "Other than the fact that I'll stop edging you and actually transform already. I will teach you how to ascend as well."

"You can do that?" he asked not fully believing her.

"I'm barely a Saiyan and yet I can still pull it off. If anyone has any idea how it can be done, it would be me."

Malachi didn't respond immediately and for a moment she began to wonder if he would take the bait, but she could see it in his eyes—he was quite interested. Even if there was an ounce of uncertainty, he would still agree just in case it was true and he was passing up his only chance to learn. "Fine," he bit out, "But I will tear you to pieces if you're lying to me."

"Good," she said with a broad smile. "Let's just hope you keep your word because I don't plan on losing."

She brought her aura forth with renewed fervor knowing, before she ever began fighting the other in her Super Saiyan form, that she would pummel him easily. Her raised cries echoed forth into the skies as her energy burned deliciously from within and then without as sparks began to flit about her aura. Her blue shirt rippled in the massive upward current of wind and her near shoulder-length bobbed hair lifted in Super Saiyan fashion just as her eyes turned a bright teal. Her hair was almost an exact replica of Goku's but longer strands of hair fell down at the front and by her ears.

For the first time, she felt the other's ki along with an extremely odd feeling she could not place. Instead, she focused her senses on his rising ki soon after she finished her own transformation. There was no spectacular light show to be seen as the languid mist about him seemed to dance in excitement spiraling about each other in no particular pattern. Just like that, he was done and the mist vanished completely. Finally being able to gauge the other's energy output, she knew he could not win. He was no match for the form she'd taken, but she wasn't entirely sure he knew that as he evoked an aura of confidence. Either that or he had something up his sleeves.

Pan distinctly remembered the move he'd pulled on Trunks that had virtually paralyzed him—she supposed _everyone_ remembered that move as it had shocked them all. Krillin commented that he'd been on the receiving end of it when he'd faced Malachi, but it had been a debilitating pain rather than one that stopped him from moving at all. It was clear that something had been different about it that time. After all that happened immediately after the fight with Trunks, no one had managed to ask Malachi about it. Likely, it would remain a mystery as to how he was able to do such a thing and who knew if he would reveal that information to anyone. All she knew was that she would avoid it all costs and watch for his hands held in a way that would allow his fingertips to make contact.

What followed was the most glorious fight she'd ever been a part of. That he was able to keep up with her pace at least initially was amazing enough. They were trading blows and she felt on equal terms with him. He was relentless as even when she knocked him back a few yards, he seemed to disregard it immediately. She was certain that her hits were doing more damage than his own, but it was never reflected in his movements which were just as fluid as ever. She wasn't holding back and she felt it was the same for him as well. She waited and waited for him to pull some kind of trick or for him to dish out the dreaded paralyzing move, but it never happened. At first, she wondered if he was simply lulling her into a false sense of security, but eventually she decided that it was not going to happen. Maybe he'd conveniently forgotten about it. Maybe he was simply enjoying himself too much.

Pan proved to have the superior stamina as she began to wear him down. Primarily, their battle was hand-to-hand and she was exposed to Malachi's full spectrum of unconventional fighting skills. It was a conglomerate of what he'd probably retained from Vegeta's training, a hodgepodge of other's techniques, and what was completely made up thrown into the mix. At some points, it would throw her off or leave her guessing what he might do next, but she realized that this was something that she liked—unpredictability. She was forced to stay on her toes at all times just in case he'd suddenly dish out one of his devastating kicks which held quite a bit of momentum behind them.

For a full, uninterrupted ten minutes, they went on like this until Pan started connecting more hits than Malachi and she began to feel his waning strength behind his attacks that did not sting as much as they had before. They separated for a moment at the same time and Pan was better able to evaluate the progress she'd made on the other. His breathing was escalated far more than hers and his clothes were literal rags at this point. Blood flowed from scratches and wounds she'd given him from every inch of his body. It was difficult to not simply call it quits here and go easy on him. Maybe that was his true secret weapon, his overwhelming presence in the lives of so many people. She wondered how she had the resolve to continue damaging him at such caliber. It pained her to see his perfect form, blemished in any way. But this was something that needed to be done for the sake of them all. Despite his visage, she was truly fighting a being from a world entirely unknown to her. That was why she was going to finish this off quickly. She had no desire to drag things out.

She could see it in her eyes that he would not be backing down despite his apparent exhaustion and injuries. She brought forth her energy once again as more of her yellow aura erupted around her. Less than a split-second later, she unleashed an incredible string of attacks, relentlessly showering him with her full array of punches and kicks from all imaginable angles. He tried to defend against her final barrage, but then threw in a surprising two hard shots to the face. She shrugged off the immediate pain and took advantage of the opening. She stopped short of knocking him out completely before thrashing him into the ground with a two-handed downward stroke.

He made quite an impact with the ground despite his futile attempt at exerting some energy to diminish the blow—he didn't have much left to do so. The entire small island rumbled as a crater formed in the middle of it. Pan waited for any retaliation on his part, but after a minute of waiting for the dirt and debris to subside she knew he was likely not getting back up anytime soon. She glided down cautiously to where she thought he landed and discovered his ravished form, pitiful in the wake of such a wide crater. He'd landed on his back and laid carelessly sprawled in obvious pain.

She stood over him with her arms crossed. The sun was in the perfect position to cast a shadow directly over him. "Do you admit defeat?" she asked confidently.

His eyes had been closed at first, his face wincing at the pain, but when he heard her voice, he was looking at her now with that same fierceness in his eyes. She didn't budge an inch as she watched the other struggle to even sit up; she didn't try to stop him; he would soon realize on his own. Soon he fell back and closed his eyes briefly as he looked away from her imposing form.

"I'll take that as a yes," she said in the same tone as before. "Will you hold up your side of the deal," she further pressed.

"I always…keep my word," he finally said after a moment.

"Look at me when you say it," Pan said determinedly, still not backing down. "Do you renounce your plans to destroy this planet?"

He took his sweet time, but he did eventually look at her directly. "…Yes."

"And don't you _dare_ go back on your word or I will make this far worse next time."

He seemed amused by her comment as his mouth curved up a bit. "Somehow, a threat from you feels as if it holds no bite behind it."

"Well, I mean what I say," she said exasperatedly as she searched her pockets now for her cell.

She thought first to simply bring Malachi to Bulma's place, but then thought better of it. Not that she didn't trust Vegeta, but she decided Bra should have a say in what happens to him before anyone else.

"Yes?" Bra answered groggily. It was obvious that she'd just woken up despite it being the middle of the day.

"You might want to come over here. I have Malachi."

"What? Is he okay? Are _you_ okay?" Bra asked in startled tones, her grogginess completely forgotten.

"I'm fine—he's not. Just come over here."

"Give me a signal," Bra said.

Pan paused for a moment wondering now how the others hadn't sensed them fighting. Bra still had no clue that anything had taken place. Though confused, she raised her ki a bit for Bra.

"Well, did you do it yet? I can't seem to sense you or Malachi at all," Bra asked.

"Hold on," Pan said after a moment. Then she was looking towards Malachi again with accusing eyes. "You did something, didn't you? Why can't people sense me? Why couldn't anyone sense us fighting?"

"…It should be fine now."

Nothing seemed to have changed after he said this as she looked around hoping to find some evidence of his meddling. She also didn't feel any different.

"What did you do?" she asked again to the frustratingly mystifying man.

"I've agreed to your terms—do you intend to interrogate me as well?"

Ignoring him now, she unleashed a brief spark of her energy and this time Bra felt it.

"I'm on my way," Bra said steadily before quickly hanging up.

Pan ended the call and kept a close eye on Malachi who had attempted to try and sit up again only to helplessly fall back.

"You just don't know when to give up, do you?" Pan asked.

The other didn't respond. He remained stubbornly quiet. They remained in silence for nearly twenty minutes before Bra arrived finally to break it. Bra noticed Pan first upon landing.

"You were in a fight this whole time?" Bra asked unbelievably.

Pan nodded. "Don't worry, I'm fine—despite my appearance. Although I've totally missed work today."

Bra smiled if only a little at her last remark. "After what happened to the others…"

"I'm tougher than I look, remember? Just tell me what you want to do with him."

Bra then came over to him and Pan could practically feel her heart breaking as she saw how injured he looked.

"I tried not to hurt him too badly…" Pan began.

"I know," Bra said before she could continue. She was looking at him exclusively now. "I'm not surprised at all that you ended up like this—I told you others would stop you. I thought you'd see reason. I waited and waited for you to come home, but you never showed."

His eyes had been closed and Pan supposed the other to have finally lost consciousness, but it seemed she was wrong as his eyes managed to open again though unfocused now.

"Maybe I _let_ them get in my way," he spat. "Maybe your worthless friends had no chance of stopping me unless I painted a big red target on my back," he continued heatedly. It seemed he could barely contain himself. Pan had never seen him so angry before. "Look how _easily_ I could do things without anyone knowing. Pan could be dead right now and no one would be the wiser!" He was practically yelling now. "And this entire damn planet could have been destroyed ages ago had I not wasted my time fooling around with you idiots!" He'd managed to pull himself up a little as one hand clawed at the ground to get a good grip. "You're all _**beneath**_ me—tiny insects in my grand scheme—"

"Malachi, stop!" Bra started to shout over him. "This isn't _you_ talking!"

Then Pan having enough of this, glided over and kicked Malachi one last time across the face to knock him out cold. She looked up when she saw the tears in Bra's eyes. Pan was second guessing just calling her alone out here to make rational decisions. She shouldn't be under so much stress.

"I know where we should take him—I don't want my father to see him like this yet," Bra said calmly after taking a deep breath.

Pan took him up and followed Bra to a somewhat remote location though it was near another village. A capsule house stood in a small clearing near a stream. This must be where he had been hiding. Pan wondered how her friend knew where it was realizing the implications. Upon entering the house, Pan noticed three children in the living room currently crowded around the television in the living room. Bra paid them no mind as she indicated the bed nearby.

"What happened to him?" one of the kids piped up quickly once she placed him onto the bed.

"He was being an idiot and picked a fight he couldn't win," Bra explained to the boy.

"Oh…" the boy said quietly. "Regardless, we gotta' patch him up," he said after a moment with more confidence.

Immediately, the boy took charge telling the other two to grab rags and a bowl of soapy water. Then he was carefully taking off what was left of Malachi's shirt.

"Do you know what you're doing?" Bra asked incredulously to the child.

"Don't worry—my dad's a doctor and I patched him up last time. Just in case he got himself hurt again, I brought some healing salve with me too."

"I had no idea," Bra said confused.

The child beamed at her before continuing where he left off.

"Bra, who are these kids?" Pan asked. She only received a shrug in response.

"I came to see him one time and they were just here—Malachi said they'd wandered in from the village nearby," Bra explained.

Pan's confused expression had not changed. "And he just…let them stick around?"

"I don't know," Bra said finally at a loss. "I don't always know why he does the things he does and that creature, whatever it is, isn't helping things."

Pan watched as the boy completely discarded the shirt and then also what was left of his pants until he was practically naked. The boy did all this without even blinking an eye or showing a hint of embarrassment—this was obviously something he'd done before on many occasions. He was more concerned about cleaning his wounds. Pan found herself blushing and unable to take her eyes away when she noticed how well-formed the rest of him was. That was when Bra turned to her and caught her staring.

"Turn around," Bra said haughtily.

"Oh please, like he's never ripped his shirt off before for the whole world to see," Pan argued back though she was really just embarrassed.

"Don't make me say it again," Bra said in the same tone but this time louder.

"Hey," the girl said to the two women, "Mr. Malachi won't heal very well with all your negative energy!"

"Would you mind stepping outside or something?" the boy said pausing his cleaning to look at them.

"Pan can step outside," Bra said looking directly at her.

"Really?" Pan said with a frown. "I don't care anyway—I did my part already," she finished with a huff as she made her way to the front door and slammed the door behind her once she was outside.

The outside air did wonders for calming her nerves that had been too easily frazzled. She attributed it to just being exhaustion. Though anger could sometimes be an infectious thing. Pan had never seen Malachi so heated before, shouting and carrying on. Surely that was the influence of the creature as well…Maybe she had been out of line for staring for too long, but she'd fully intended to look elsewhere! No need to be a brat about it. Once she found out her friend was actually dating Malachi, she had to force herself to take down the poster from her wall and wallpapers from all her devices just so she wouldn't have such a conflict of interest any time she saw them together. She wasn't jealous, but she could no longer look at him in the same light. It had been a difficult transition. There were other entertainers, other people to admire or vaguely fantasize about, but none were quite like Malachi.

Pan looked up when the door opened again to behold Bra.

"He's decent; you can come back in. And…I'm sorry."

She left the door open likely returning to Malachi's side. Pan only stepped in to see that the two were okay, but intended on leaving the troubled couple to their own devices. "Are you going to tell your dad?"

"I'm going to have to. I can't keep things a secret anymore. Obviously, there's nothing more I can do."

"I know things looked…bad back there, but I made him agree that he wouldn't destroy Earth and he said he would keep his word."

"That's good," Bra said looking over at Pan. "That's really good."

Despite her words, however, Pan could sense the other's despondency. Even if the looming threat of destruction might have been over—and even that might still be up in the air—it was doubtful he would ever be the same.

* * *

 **AN:** Seems the threat is finally over...

 **Wine:** Why, thank you.


	23. Elimination or Redemption

"What exactly are we going to do with him," Krillin asked aloud though he was obviously speaking directly to Vegeta.

They were all outside, at least those who were not bedridden, on one of the expansive balconies at the Brief's residence. Vegeta stood near the railings. Krillin and 18 sat at the circular table and Tien stood near the table with his arms crossed, silent for the most part.

"I spoke with Bulma earlier today—there's nothing she can do at this point that doesn't involve him dying as a result or made to suffer in some way. From what she's seen from further analysis, whatever that creature was initially is now fully integrated into his DNA and that is not something that can be easily changed."

"We've pretty much already tried keeping him under watch," 18 said, "And that's why we're even in this position in the first place. No senzu beans, Dende is still too weak right now—for all we know this could all still be part of his 'plan' and we're just playing right into his hands."

"Do you really think Malachi would purposely choose to lose a fight against someone after going through all this trouble? It's counterproductive at best," Vegeta said back.

"Actually, yeah," Krillin said, "I wouldn't put anything past that guy."

Vegeta snorted at this as he turned towards the other three now and leaned back against the railings. "I find it hard to believe that a guy who has consistently unnecessarily risked his life just to win a fight would ever come up with a plan that included swallowing his pride and _losing_ against anyone. If I can already come up with a better one, then surely he could have as well. Your paranoia is duly noted 18, but I'm unconvinced."

18 frowned at this. "You still haven't answered Krillin's question. We can't cure him and all he will do is keep trying to escape. Do you really want to take on the responsibility of always keeping tabs on him or always having to subdue him somehow—isn't that torture in itself?"

"What are you suggesting?" Vegeta asked.

"You _know_ what I'm suggesting," she said back haughtily.

"Krillin?" Vegeta said looking to him now.

The look he gave him was all the indication he needed to deduce his thoughts on the matter. He couldn't voice the words, but Vegeta knew that he supported his wife.

Vegeta couldn't help but grin at the irony. "If only Kakarot could see the state of his trusted friends and allies. I'm sure Majuub still wants to tear Malachi's throat out at this point. And Gohan these days is certainly not like how I remembered him since Piccolo left. I wouldn't be surprised if he actually _contemplated_ your suggestion."

"All I hear is criticism," 18 said back, "Yet you've not told us anything else we can do instead."

"Pan told us herself that he gave her his word that he will no longer be a threat to this world. As of yet, he's given us no reason to disbelieve this fact and, of course, why would Pan lie about something like that."

"So we just take his word?" Krillin asked.

"Yes," Vegeta said simply. "We give him a chance, maybe even more than one chance to prove himself."

"But that's…" 18 began uncertainly.

"Not a good idea?" Vegeta asked. "Let me put it this way, if we _don't_ do this, we are renouncing everything you idiots claim to stand for. We'd all be hypocrites and it would be a downward spiral from there. So the decision was simple from the outset. I invited you all here today not for a discussion but to inform you what's going to be done."

Tien looked on knowingly and the other two were silent now.

"I've known where Malachi has been hiding for some time now," Vegeta began.

"And you decided that wasn't pertinent information you wanted to share with the class?" Krillin asked flabbergasted. "Wasn't the whole thing about telling us to be on our guard because you _didn't_ know where to find him?"

"Shortly after, Bra so-called snuck out of the house, but she's never been all the good with that sort of thing. I know the places she frequents and it certainly isn't remote locations in the middle of forests. I decided not to meddle because I trust Bra to make her own decisions and she was well aware of the stakes."

"Even with the conflict of interest?" 18 reminded him.

"Even so. Bra knows him better than anyone. Nothing terrible happened. All was peaceful the entire time. I don't claim to know the state of his mind, but that is more than enough evidence for me that he is not as far gone as we might think. Not that it matters anyway. Friend or foe, unless our hands are forced, we show the enemy mercy." Vegeta's eyes passed over them. "Malachi will stay with Tien for the time being and we will see what happens from there."

"Is this a joke?" 18 said standing up now. She turned to Tien then. "No offense, but you'd be no match for him if he got out of hand."

Tien looked at her unperturbed. "No offense taken, but I do have my ways. From what I can tell, he might respond well to authority."

"So your big idea is to send him to boot camp," 18 said. "And you'd be making him even more of a problem while you're at it. Maybe we won't be so lucky next time."

"Will there be a next time?" Vegeta said to the other. "You act as if it's a fact."

"If you're really so gullible to take his word—"

"Would you trust someone who doubted you from the very beginning?" Vegeta asked.

"That's not the point," 18 said.

"That is _exactly_ my point."

18 looked at him challengingly and then relented as she sat down again.

"You'll know where he is and what he's doing—I'd say we're far more knowledgeable than we have been since this whole thing started," Vegeta finished. "And that will have to do for now."

18 clearly wasn't entirely onboard with his decision and neither was Krillin, but Vegeta had no intentions of changing his mind. Apart from Tien giving Malachi formal martial arts training in hopes of improving Malachi's mental state, alternative options weren't exactly forthcoming. Though Pan had stated that he'd given his word, Malachi could just as likely turn back on it. It was hard to keep track of Malachi in the first place, but for right now, Vegeta could sense him as he was no longer actively trying to hide his presence.

Vegeta eventually stepped back inside to check in on his daughter. She'd been in tears when she called and told him what had transpired yesterday afternoon. Everything had happened quickly after that. Malachi was still unconscious. Bra was nauseous again and weak likely from stress and not eating. Her precarious condition worried him more than anything else, more than Malachi's unknown state of mind, the other's reaction to showing him leniency, even the lingering threat on the planet's existence. None of those things mattered it seemed when it came to Bra.

Her ki signature was much stronger now than yesterday and Vegeta hoped it would remain that way for the duration of her pregnancy. He still had not given much thought to the child she was carrying. Having never been in such a situation, never once imagining that he might one day live long enough to see his own offspring start a family of their own, he had no idea what to think. It was something he might discuss with Bulma, but since Malachi had been brought to her lab, she'd been tirelessly trying to come up with a solution. This was always the time in which she'd come up with something convenient, the very thing that might save the day. So far, however, that was not to be.

Bra's door was open for a change. When he entered the doorway, he found her sitting on the edge of her bed occupied with a tablet device.

"How are you feeling?" Vegeta asked stolidly when she noticed him.

"Better than yesterday," she said putting the device down. "So I guess you're finished with your little discussion with the others. How did they take it?"

Vegeta had told her long before anyone else what he'd planned to do about Malachi and she'd had no objections to it, something that came as a surprise to him seeing as she'd be separated from him for quite some time.

"Not well. I expect similar responses from everyone else."

"He is…a loose cannon," Bra said averting her gaze, "I'm not surprised. Do you really think a change of scenery will change anything?"

Vegeta's eyebrows furrowed a little as she said this. This was certainly not the vote of confidence he'd expected to hear from her. "Only time will tell. Tien seems confident enough."

"I just…don't want him to get hurt anymore. Dad," she began as she looked at him now, "I'd never seen him so angry before not even when I'd really upset him in the past. For the first time, I realized that it wasn't him—he's not 'Malachi' anymore. He's—I don't know what he is. The Malachi I knew died on the day that thing got into him and I've been in denial ever since."

"Are you…" Vegeta began uncertainly not knowing how to proceed with his question, but it seemed Bra already knew what he was trying to ask.

"Yes," she confirmed. "This child that I'm carrying will be his last gift to me. Sending him away is for the best."

Vegeta stood there for a moment staring at his daughter. The complete change in attitude towards Malachi seemed almost out of place. Had he missed something? Then again, perhaps this explained all those tears yesterday. He'd supposed she'd been sad because of Malachi's physical condition, but there had been a deeper pain there. After all this time, after he'd put real effort into getting to know her potential mate, training him, finally growing comfortable with the idea of his daughter spending the rest of her life with someone and that person being Malachi, suddenly all of that meant nothing. In this very moment, all the headway he'd made towards acceptance was now null and void. However, surprisingly, he did not share her sentiments. At the same time, he saw no reason to try and change Bra's mind. Only she could make decisions in that regard. He staunchly refused to meddle with affairs of the heart as it never turned out well for him.

"In more ways than one," Vegeta finally responded. "The others need time to cool off. Especially Majuub."

"But I don't blame him, you know. Malachi destroyed his entire village. That was his hometown. The place he grew up in. I've never met his family and I can only imagine how it would feel like to have so many people you care about disappear just like that."

"What happened was tragic," Vegeta said in agreement. Thinking about it in terms of losing his own family—it immediately put him on edge as a dark bottomless pit began to form beneath him. In the same instant, though he did not inform Bra, he found himself in Malachi's shoes, an easy act to do as he'd been there countless times before… "But it's best not to dwell on it."

"That will be hard to do," Bra said looking away. "But it will take _a lot_ of time."

Seeing nothing more he could say, he stepped away from the doorway and made his way down the hall further to reach the stairs. In the medical ward, Dende, Goten, Gohan, and Majuub were there recovering from their encounter with Malachi. Mr. Popo had already recovered enough to return to the lookout. But Vegeta did not come to check in on them. He could sense their ki signatures and knew that they were not in mortal danger. In the furthest room possible was Malachi.

He'd expected Malachi to be resting from the condition he'd seen him in when he was first brought to the house. However, it was not so as he peered through the open door. He was sitting up, staring emotionlessly at the only window in the room with eyes that spoke volumes of his obvious exhaustion. He was heavily bandaged from head to toe.

"Have you come to finally finish the job or did you come to gloat?" Malachi said without bothering to turn to him.

"Neither," Vegeta said. "Though if you've really given up, you'd try to attack me, right here and now. And if you did so, you would be killed in an instant."

This caught Malachi's attention as he did turn his eyes to Vegeta watching him silently now. His expression remained unfathomable.

"But you won't," Vegeta finished.

"Maybe I'm simply biding my time to plan for my next move."

"If you were, I doubt you'd tell me."

"Or maybe I would."

Vegeta scoffed at this. "As convoluted and ineffective as your last scheme turned out to be, there's no need for anyone to waste time worrying about it."

"Pan had a way with words," Malachi said as his eyes returned to its solitary gaze out the window. "She promised me something…that I can't seem to stop thinking about it. I won't fall for such a trick again. After getting my ass handed to me, I began to wonder what was the point? There are certain desires which cannot be ignored. I once defined myself as one who left destruction in their wake, but now things are far more complicated, an entire web of obstacles that continues to distract my thoughts. Is this what you plan to do as punishment?—watch me suffer in silence though my presence serves no advantage to you whatsoever."

"Your idea of punishment differs greatly from mine," Vegeta said with a brief grin. "I expect you to make a full recovery and to keep your word to Pan."

"Is that all?" Malachi asked. "Do you really not think it silly keeping me around?"

"You're in this condition now because you couldn't stand up to the might of a Super Saiyan. She wasn't even at full power and I am far more powerful. I think it's more silly that you ever thought you could take her on much less me."

"Your son thought the same thing, didn't he?" Malachi reminded him.

"It's clear that he underestimated you just like all the others you've managed to defeat. You count on that happening which is why you always make sure to hide your ki signature even during a fight. Pan is an experienced fighter and knows that there is more than one way to gauge someone's strength. You couldn't fool her and that was why you were defeated."

Malachi had nothing immediate to say back and his expression never changed.

"Tien lives quite far from here—you will be staying with him for the time being."

"Is that right?" Malachi said absently as if he was now being distracted from his thoughts.

"And he will train you in the way of martial arts, but it will be formal and structured."

"I can't even begin to follow why you'd think that is my best course of action. Have I disappointed you so much that you now find it beneath you to continue training me?"

Vegeta didn't hear even a hint of desperation or sadness in his tone, but that he bothered asking a question like this told him everything he needed to know. "Malachi, believe it or not, you're human and you gave yourself an impossible goal to begin with. I don't know why I humored you for so long. Tien would be better suited to training you without putting you into mortal danger on a daily basis."

"I…see." His voice had suddenly become thin, then he cleared his voice. "I was impressed by his cloning technique. Quite a useful move."

"It would be best to keep your distance from here for the time being—the others won't be as 'accommodating' as me. They'll need time to cool off. Of course, this all hinges on whether you decide to do something stupid."

"I hardly care what those idiots think of me, but I see your point."

They sat in silence for a while before Vegeta decided they'd reached the end of their conversation and he'd finished debating with himself whether he should say something about Bra. When he turned, however, Malachi finally spoke again.

"How is Bra doing?"

He froze in his tracks. "Fine," he said singularly.

"Good," he said after a moment. "That's good."

"You could go see for yourself. You're not forced to stay in this room," Vegeta said.

Malachi said nothing to this and so Vegeta took his leave. He'd seen Malachi for himself and he concluded that he would be no real danger to them anymore. Malachi had found out when Pan soundly defeated him that he was not invincible. He seemed broken and lost. He also seemed in no shape to be trying to salvage whatever relationship he had with Bra. There was still enough Malachi left there, however, for Vegeta to tell that it was him—he was not so different from who he used to be. He wasn't as unrecognizable as Bra had led him to believe. He was still that reckless boy with lofty goals and he still seemed to care about Bra's wellbeing. Perhaps his motivations were a bit skewed, but he had made no fuss when he was told that he would be training—he still wanted to become stronger. Vegeta hoped that that desire would further distract him and occupy his thoughts rather than…whatever he'd been thinking before he'd stepped in to speak with him. Perhaps those distractions could evolve into something more and eventually change him completely. It had worked for him, why not for Malachi?

* * *

 **AN:** That was easy. Malachi is now back to being a good guy? Or is he playing the long game?


	24. All Work and No Play

**Malachi spoke very little on the long drive to the small town where Tien's dojo was located.** Tien hadn't expected to leave that night after he'd seen the condition Malachi had been in just earlier that day. But he was wide awake and had sought him out.

"Shouldn't you be resting?" Tien asked the youth.

He'd been the only one to remain on the balcony after the others had left. Malachi stood silently beside the doorway leading to the house. He gave off a dark aura and his choice of clothing was not helping things. Only the whiteness of his bandages brought any coloring to them.

"I can't stand being here any longer," Malachi said simply.

"I don't think you're fit for travel." Tien noticed his pallid complexion and the clear exhaustion in his eyes.

"I doubt I'd die from an extended time sitting down in a car."

"I don't own a car," Tien said.

"You really fly everywhere you go, huh," Malachi said with some mirth. "You do know how to drive though, right?"

"At one time, I saw it as a useful skill, but I've hardly touched a wheel in many years."

"Here," Malachi said taking a capsule out of his pocket and tossing it towards Tien, "It's yours."

Tien hadn't exactly envisioned himself driving all the way back home in the middle of the night, but that was how it all turned out. He doubted anyone would be upset about Malachi's early departure and it was likely that Malachi wouldn't agree to being carried. Aside from that, however, flying on someone's back wasn't the safest mode of transportation in his condition.

The hover car was a top down convertible, sleek and red—a luxurious vehicle that was far above his paygrade. Though he hadn't driven a car in a while, it came back to him naturally as soon as he started the quiet engine.

"You know I can't take this," Tien said after a while as they breezed quietly down the near empty highway.

Malachi had been gazing out the side of the car and wind whipped back his dark, curly hair. "Why not? What would giving it back to me prove? Besides, you seem to be enjoying yourself."

"It raises too many questions and I am not a charity case."

"Of course you're not," he replied nonchalantly, "You require money for your services, do you not? I'm sure that's how you keep your doors open. And…I owe you."

Tien glanced over at the other, but he could not see his face as it was turned completely from him. "Yes, and all my students pay with far too expensive convertibles."

"Take it and I promise I'll make things a little easier on you."

"That almost sounds like a threat," Tien said shaking his head at the other's audacity.

"I wouldn't dream of threatening you when I can barely take a step without being in a lot of pain." He sighed exasperatedly. "But seriously, just take it. I'm running out of ways to convince you."

After a long moment, Tien made up his mind. "Fine, but don't make this sort of thing a habit."

Malachi did look over at him for a few seconds before returning to his view of the passing trees. "Pity. All work and no play."

They soon fell to silence as the hours rolled by. Tien had to admit that it was nice driving so late at night with only the sound of the wind to keep him company. He didn't bother turning on the radio and everything else about the car was silent. Who knew hover car technology would evolve so far as to become so smooth and comfortable? He remembered them to be far more difficult to control and not nearly as user friendly. The stars passed quickly overhead and the road seemed to stretch on forever. It was a nice change of perspective after spending so much of his life flying everywhere. This was indeed a slower way to get from point 'a' to point 'b', but the novelty wasn't lost on him.

Malachi had dozed off quite a few times, but for whatever reason he had awoken again and again. It was tiring just to watch, but perhaps a moving car wasn't the best place for resting. It was early morning and so still dark by the time they made it to his home—a simple rancher with more than enough room to accommodate one extra person. Malachi was awake by this time and followed the other inside. Tien showed him the guest room and insisted the other actually got some rest so that he could have a smooth recovery. After lying down in his own bed, however, he heard as Malachi left the room and opened the front door.

Annoyed, Tien went to the front and then opened the door to find Malachi sitting idly on one of the porch chairs. "Is this what you usually do all night?" he asked.

Malachi afforded the other a glance. "I don't feel like being inside at the moment. Don't worry, I won't do anything stupid."

Tien watched him for a few moments and then retired to his bed. He kept track of Malachi's ki signature that he was no longer bothering to hide. After a while, Tien decided that he had nothing to worry about. In his condition, he probably wouldn't be much danger to anyone.

* * *

 **Chiaotzu arose early in the morning along with Tien to begin his own training; a routine he'd adhered to for years.** After a couple of hours, they'd then prepare to head off to the dojo before the first class was scheduled to start. Malachi appeared to be resting by the time they had to leave. Usually, Chiaotzu would accompany Tien to the dojo, but that day, Tien charged his closest friend with keeping an eye on Malachi and making sure he was taken care of while he was gone.

Chiaotzu had largely been unaware of Malachi's presence until that moment and the fact that he had to spend a good portion of the day separate from Tien was a bit jarring to discover so last minute. He pouted a little, but didn't make a fuss as he watched his friend leave him behind. Tien had spoken at length about Malachi a while ago, clearly impressed by him. They often spoke about promising students, this Chiaotzu was used to, but Tien had never praised anyone as much as Malachi. In fact, he was a little tired of hearing about it. Surely one person couldn't elicit such attention. He'd seen him in person a few times before when Tien had taken time out of his schedule to teach a technique that was far too advanced to a seemingly random person. Yamcha had vouched for him at the very least.

He had watched as Malachi quickly learned the move in a surprising two-day period. Since then, Tien wouldn't shut-up about him. It wasn't that he spoke of him exclusively, but he would always be mentioned; Chiaotzu knew where his thoughts had been for quite some time. He made his way to the guest room where he rightly assumed Malachi was resting.

He found the other just getting up and obviously in some pain as his breathing hitched a little if he moved too quickly. It was rather late by then—ten in the morning. Surely, once Tien actually began training him, he'd expect him to wake much earlier.

"Rise and shine!" Chiaotzu said in his high-pitched voice though he chose a note higher than usual for maximum annoyance.

Clearly Malachi was not ready for such an intrusion as he wound up falling out of bed utterly tangled in the thin comforters. Chiaotzu felt bad only for a second as the other cried out in pain. He struggled to sit up again and his eyes were glaring at him angrily—a look that did little to deter Chiaotzu.

"You did that on purpose, didn't you?" Malachi accused the other sourly.

"Breakfast will be ready for you in a few minutes," he informed the other, completely ignoring his question.

Chiaotzu did not wait for a response as he quickly floated out of the room to the kitchen. He would throw something quick together so that, at the very least, the other wouldn't starve. Midway through his cooking he heard as Malachi entered the dining room, cursing under his breath. He sat down at the table wordlessly. When Chiaotzu glanced back at his silent guest, he noted the other dozing off as a hand propped up his head. Shaking his head, the little man floated up to grab a plate and placed the fried eggs and bacon on it.

"Here you go!" Chiaotzu shouted, startling the other to wakefulness as he placed the plate in front of him.

"Seriously, how are you this chipper in the morning?" Malachi growled at the other.

"It's nearly noon, you know," he informed the other.

Malachi practically inhaled everything on the plate much to Chiaotzu's surprise. When he floated over to take up the empty plate, Malachi gave him a hard look that gave him pause.

"I got it," Malachi said gruffly, "I don't need a maid."

It took him a moment, but Malachi eventually climbed to his feet and made his way over to the sink to clean it thoroughly along with the pan that Chiaotzu had cooked in. His movements were slow and lethargic, but he got the job done in a fair amount of time.

"Your eggs were a bit overcooked," Malachi said leaning against the sink now, still turned away.

"Tien loves my eggs and you ate it so fast, I barely had time to put it on the table."

"Yeah, well, I'm not one to turn down food."

Malachi seemed to be having trouble standing and Chiaotzu watched as he made his way back to the dining room table to sit down. Then there was silence for a while as Chiaotzu had nothing he wanted to say to the other. He noted that Malachi was in a weakened condition. He was hardly the "student" that Tien had spoken so highly of and he seemed no different than any other human.

"Geez, are you just going to stare at the back of my head all day or are you going to say something?" Malachi asked breaking the silence, this time startling him.

Chiaotzu floated over to the other and positioned himself so that he was right across from Malachi. "Well, I don't know you very well," he stated plainly.

"Nor I you," Malachi replied. "What the hell are you anyways?"

"What do you mean?" he asked slightly offended by the other's tone.

"I mean: What are you?" Malachi asked once again.

"I'm an Earthling just like you," Chiaotzu said in an elevated tone.

"Is that right?" he said as his eyes passed more slowly over him. "And how old are you?"

Chiaotzu frowned at the other. "None of your business."

"Hm, a touchy subject. You don't seem like a child, but you look like one—a ghostly pale one anyway.

"Yeah?" Chiaotzu said in a questioning tone indicating that his observations mattered little.

"I wonder what it must feel like perpetually appearing as a child? Do you mature the same way as others or will there always be a part of you that is child-like? What exactly is your relationship with Tien? Friends or something deeper?"

Chiaotzu didn't like the piercing gaze the other was giving him, noticing every inch of him. Suddenly he felt as if he was on a petri dish and that his intense gaze looked down on him through a microscope—it was an eerie feeling to say the least. He almost felt paralyzed to move and he had no intentions of humoring the other.

"Am I talking to myself?—say something already," Malachi said in frustration with the other's silence.

"Tien told me to look after you, not answer silly questions."

Malachi who'd been leaning on the table, sat back in his chair with a grin. "Fine then, change of subject. What do you like to do when you're utterly bored?"

"I'm never bored. I'm usually training with Tien at the dojo."

"Oh, I see now. I've clearly disrupted your little routine. You'd rather be with Tien, huh?" Malachi said in teasing tones. He received more silence from Chiaotzu.

Chiaotzu watched the other climb out of the chair and then move over to the living room area; a place which had a fireplace at its center, two long couches and a small table where a lamp sat. Malachi stood just behind the couch surveying the area as if trying to discover something.

"No television?" Malachi asked after a moment. "No music, no entertainment—it's a little depressing to look at really."

"Well," Chiaotzu began finally humoring the other, "I've always wanted a television, but we never got around to getting it."

"Hm, I guess when one dedicates themselves to martial arts, there's no room for anything else. I doubt I'd find a deck of cards or anything of that nature around here, right?"

Malachi straightened himself after a while and then proceeded to the front door.

"Um…" Chiaotzu said causing the other to pause as his hand hovered over the doorknob. "I don't know if it's a good idea to go out. Shouldn't you be resting?"

"You're probably right, but I'm restless and if I stay in here with nothing to do for much longer, I think I will start to lose my mind."

"Alright…" Chiaotzu said giving in. He didn't think he'd like to see the other 'lose his mind'.

Chiaotzu followed him onto the porch and watched as he took note of his surroundings.

"Who lives next door?" Malachi asked indicating the small house to the left.

"That's Launch's place," Chiaotzu informed the other. "She's at work now, though."

"I see; you know her by name," Malachi noted, "And who's the one on the other side of us?"

"Another lady," he said with a shrug, "She stays in the house all the time."

"Perfect," he said as he made his way down the stairs. "Let's go introduce ourselves and see what she's doing."

Bewildered, Chiaotzu followed the other as he levitated in the air. Malachi's gait was slow as he traversed the small expanse of yard and sidewalk it took to reach their neighbor's place. He suddenly felt shy as the other boldly knocked on her door as if it was the most normal thing in the world to do. Wasn't he new here? He was a complete stranger knocking on random people's doors. They waited for quite a few seconds before the door opened slightly and a brunette peered cautiously through the crack.

"Yes?" she asked in a quiet voice.

"Hi," Malachi said in pleasant tones, "I'm new around here—I just moved in to the place beside you," he said indicating Tien's place with a subtle cock of his head.

"With that guy?" she said before Malachi could say anything more, "Isn't he the instructor at that dojo?"

"He is," Malachi said, "Must be pretty big around here."

"Oh yeah," she agreed, "All the guys go there to train. There's been quite a bit more people here because of it. Um…do you…do you train as well?"

"I do—well, I did. I was in a bit of an accident, but once I'm well enough, I'll see what all the fuss is about."

Now the woman opened the door up a little wider so that they could behold the slender beauty who lived next door. She wore a camisole and a pair of sweatpants and her hair was tied back in a ponytail. "Sorry, that was rude, I haven't introduced myself. I'm Lilith and I've lived here for a few years."

"I'm Malachi," he replied. "And the little guy behind me is Chiaotzu. A pleasure to meet you."

Lilith acknowledged Chiaotzu with a smile, but her attention soon returned to Malachi. "Funny your name is Malachi—you look a lot like that singer. I bet you get that a lot."

"I do," he replied with a laugh.

Chiaotzu had no idea who they were talking about, but obviously Malachi was a well-known name. Judging by how crazy the crowd got at the tournament when he took the arena, he must have been quite famous, but he was yet to find out why this was the case. In the end, however, Chiaotzu could care less.

"I know this is a strange request, but could I draw you?"

"Me? Right now?" Malachi asked completely caught off guard.

"I'm an artist by trade," she explained, "And I never pass up an opportunity to draw something worthwhile."

"I'm sure you could find someone better. I look terrible at the moment—"

"You look perfect," Lilith said with a cheerful smile, "And I _really_ want you to be the subject of my next portrait. I know it's a bit weird to ask so suddenly—Oh, I know, I'll pay you. How does that sound?"

"You don't have to pay me," Malachi said with a sigh. "You seem pretty gung-ho about this and who am I to stand in the way of artistry?"

"Come on in, then. Forewarning, it's a bit messy," she said as she opened the door fully and walked further into the house.

Chiaotzu followed after them before the door closed on his face. He could almost roll his eyes at how much attention the woman was giving Malachi. Why did everyone give him so much attention? Why was he forced to follow this man instead of being with Tien? It was going to be a long day. The residence was quite messy. Easels with unfinished drawings and paintings were everywhere along with paint bottles, brushes, cans of water, writing utensils, and dried paint palettes. They all gathered in the large living room which at least had a good setup of two couches and a large, flat screen television, but most of the space was dedicated to her work. Lilith was already taking out a chair for Malachi to sit on and she grabbed an expensive looking digital camera from a shelf chalk full of them.

"No, no, don't smile and sit like this; put your hand like this, your legs like this…" Lilith said as she basically posed him from head to toe. She was quite hands on.

Malachi seemed all too willing to oblige. In fact, he didn't seem to find the situation odd at all. He even asked questions of his own. All the while, Chiaotzu looked on flabbergasted.

"Okay, perfect. Now hold that pose while I take some pictures," she said.

She took quite a few pictures of him from various angles and Malachi showed not even an ounce of embarrassment or that he was uncomfortable.

"Wow," she said after taking a flurry of pictures, "You're quite a natural at this. This part usually takes me a bit to do; people tend to fidget."

"Yes, well, I have some experience in doing this sort of thing."

"Oh? You're a model? I knew it," she said with a smile.

Now Chiaotzu really did roll his eyes as Malachi smiled back at the woman.

"Flattery will get you everywhere," he replied.

She giggled at this. "Well, looks like I have all the angles I need for reference so you're free to move around again. Thank you for letting me do this."

"You're very welcome," Malachi said as he sat back comfortably in the chair. "So you do this sort of thing for a living," he continued clearly amused by the idea.

"I most certainly do. Every now and then, I get special commissions that will send me to various locations or I'll show my work at exhibits, but I spend a lot of my time here. I have a gallery in the back if you're interested in looking."

Malachi stood up then though slowly and with a sigh. "I think I'll have a look," he agreed with her.

Chiaotzu who had no desire in seeing such things watched the other disappear to the back. For a moment, he pondered following, but then decided that Malachi could at least make it through viewing a few pictures without hurting himself. This, of course, left him with little to do as his eyes casted about the house in idle curiosity. He imagined Tien would have a fit if his place ever ended up in such a mess.

He watched as Lilith printed off the photos quickly from her Capsule printer on glossy photo paper. They were fairly large photos that printed in record time. Then she riffled through the different images before deciding on a few of them. She grabbed a stand to set up Malachi's photos and then finally she sat down again at the easel she'd been at before. With mechanical pencil in hand, she began in earnest.

"You know, I don't usually do these kinds portraits often. But then, I hardly ever have a subject I'm interested in," she said aloud.

Chiaotzu suspected she was talking to him, but he had nothing to say back so remained silent.

"So, little specter boy, I always see you following that martial arts teacher around like a lost puppy—strange to see you separate from him."

"My name is Chiaotzu," he declared, not liking the nickname she'd given him, "And I was charged with keeping an eye on Malachi."

"Oh? That's awfully generous of you to do, being his caretaker. What exactly could you do, though, if he actually got into trouble?"

"Strange question, miss," Chiaotzu said with a raised eyebrow, "But I'm well-versed in martial arts and telekinesis."

"I was only curious. It's not often I get to meet little specter boys in person," she said with a grin.

"I'm _not_ a—"

"Pale-skin, likes to float around and follow people all the time. A specter in my book."

"Don't get any funny ideas and draw me like you're doing with Malachi," he said with a frown.

She laughed heartily at this. "I wouldn't dream of drawing such a horrible picture. I like to draw pretty things like natural or fantasy landscapes and portraits of beautiful people—I'd have no motivation to draw the likes of you. Why so annoyed looking all of a sudden? Hm, I suppose some opinions should be kept to myself, you're right. It's been a while since I've spoken with someone—I do tend to get lost in my own little world."

One thing was for certain, he did not like the woman. He hadn't particularly liked her from the beginning, but now it was confirmed. Her attention was no longer on him as she continued her sketch. He moved closer to the door and stood waiting for Malachi to finally be done with this place already. He came back from the back eventually after a good half an hour much to his further annoyance.

"You have incredible talent," Malachi said as he moved towards her. "I liked every single one of them—the bright colors, the subject matter. You make the world seem far more beautiful than it really is."

"Thank you," she said with a smile in her voice, "That's exactly what I aim to do."

"I especially liked the phoenix flying over the brightly lit city."

"The phoenix was quite fun to paint," she said.

"You wouldn't happen to be selling those, would you?"

"Oh, you said the magic words. I'm always selling. Everything I create is available for purchase."

Chiaotzu watched as the two of them went through the process of purchasing the painting. Two thousand dollars sounded far too expensive and a complete waste of money on something as trifle as a painting, but Malachi was all too willing to pay and even going so far as to say that it was reasonably priced given its size—she'd apparently given him a discount. Malachi paid via his cellphone and Lilith was flitting around the house looking for the proper materials to wrap it up. The whole thing took about ten minutes to finish and in the end Lilith was holding quite a substantially sized painting wrapped up securely in plastic and paper.

"No, no, I'll carry it for you—I would hate for you to drop it along the way," she said to the protesting Malachi.

"If you insist," he said giving in to the woman far quicker than Chiaotzu thought was possible.

Chiaotzu was just glad to finally leave and then be back at Tien's place where he was sure he was supposed to have kept Malachi the entire time. He sat down in the living room as the two went back to the guest room where Malachi was staying. How long did he think he was staying to require such things as a painting to decorate the walls? Tien had told him that he planned on training Malachi, but surely that couldn't be more than a few months. The entire exchange was ridiculous in his opinion.

The two was back there for quite some time before Chiaotzu thought to investigate, but by the time he did, Lilith was already saying her goodbyes, promising the other that she would make great progress on his portrait by tomorrow afternoon. When he looked at the time, he realized that it would be a good time to start cooking dinner. Tien would be exhausted after a full day at the dojo especially without his help and he also had an extra mouth to feed. If breakfast was any indication, Malachi probably had a healthy appetite.

He floated into the kitchen and began quickly. It was perhaps the best part of this dreary day of watching Malachi. He took out the proper meats and began seasoning them. In the meantime, he heard Malachi come out to the main area and take a seat on the couch—the man obviously saw no merits in resting. This time he made no attempts at striking up conversation and kept to himself. Of this, Chiaotzu was grateful. He cooked to his heart's content and time seemed to fly by. When Tien came back home like clockwork, Chiaotzu was nearly finished with everything.

"Wow, the house smells really nice—you're really outdoing yourself today," Tien said as he closed the front door to the now glowing Chiaotzu.

"Yeah, if you call leaving food in the oven too long 'outdoing yourself', I guess so," Malachi said cutting across before Chiaotzu could respond.

"And hello to you too," Tien said looking towards Malachi. "How was your day?"

"Boring as hell. Bought a new painting from the woman next door," Malachi said without pretense.

"You visited the neighbor today?" Tien asked a little confused.

"I did. She's an accomplished painter. Spends all her time doing it."

"Hm, never knew that. She tends to keep to herself."

"How was your day?" Malachi asked the other.

Before Tien could finish, Chiaotzu declared that dinner was ready and began setting everything out. Malachi seemed as if he wanted to help, but Chiaotzu successfully deterred him by giving him the most annoyed look he could dish out at the man, imploring him to just take a seat already. Malachi eventually plopped down at the dining room table along with Tien who sat across from him and Chiaotzu took his usual seat beside Tien.

"To answer your question," Tien said looking to Malachi now, "It went well. My students seemed fully focused today and I was able to get a lot more out of them in a shorter amount of time."

"That sounds like a success if ever I've heard one," Malachi said spooning large portions of food onto his plate without concern to the other's startled looks.

"Chiaotzu, did Malachi behave today?" Tien asked.

"If by behave you mean, taking it easy and resting—no. He just hung out with the neighbor lady all day," Chiaotzu gleefully informed the other.

"Hm, I see," Tien said with a nod as he looked to Malachi now, but then paused as he watched the other demolish the food on his plate in a few minutes. They'd hardly started on theirs.

"You sure like my overcooked food," Chiaotzu accused the other as he watched him chow down.

"Well," Malachi said between swallowing the last thing he put in his mouth and taking up more on his utensil, "I'm not very picky. I'll eat anything that isn't terribly burnt—the bar is set pretty low."

"I bet you couldn't do better," Chiaotzu said, becoming annoyed with all the critiques and hoping to put the other on the spot.

Malachi paused in his eating once again. "I most certainly could," he said.

"Then prove it," Chiaotzu said. "Make dinner tomorrow."

He picked his fork up once more. "Challenge accepted, little man. I'd have to see what ingredients you have on hand before I do anything."

This was when Tien set his food down clearly finding something he didn't like in their exchange. "You will do no such thing, Malachi," Tien said, "I will not have someone who is still recovering from grievous, life-threatening injuries, slaving in the kitchen."

"Really?" Malachi said in irritation, "You think I'm too feeble to even throw some food together?"

Tien looked at him without giving in an inch. "Yes. Maybe tomorrow you'll get more rest in. And, Chiaotzu, take him to see the doctor—maybe some medication might help."

Malachi looked at Tien a moment longer and then relented. "Well, you heard him, Chiaotzu—I'll do it later then."

Malachi returned to his food and inhaled the rest of it. Then he asked if anyone wanted anything else. Once they declined, he proceeded to cleaning off the rest of the food on the table. The other two watched with awestruck expressions, but did nothing to stop him. Chiaotzu waited for Tien to say something, but he didn't. All the leftovers he thought he was going to have was gone and he'd have to prepare food tomorrow as much as he'd done today.

"Good night, all," Malachi said as he got up from the table albeit slowly and with some effort. He took up his plate intending to take it to the kitchen, but Tien stopped him.

"We'll take care of it," Tien said.

Malachi sighed with irritation. "I don't feel like arguing with you."

"Good," Tien replied without skipping a beat. "Now get some rest."

Chiaotzu watched the other trudge off to the back with no further fuss. It was a feat that impressed him; he doubted he could get away with ordering the willful man around. Then again, he supposed he shouldn't be surprised. Tien always had a certain aura around him that made people respect him without much effort—it was part of what had drawn him to Tien in the first place.

"Did you see how he was eating," Tien said after Malachi was in his room. "It reminds me of Goku."

"You're comparing him to Goku now?" Chiaotzu said with disbelief.

"I hear that tone in your voice. Goku was a fighter just like any other—he simply excelled at it. And being a Saiyan didn't hurt. Anyways, I'm sure Malachi didn't do anything especially extraneous today, yet he plowed through that food like he'd been starving. I haven't seen him in action since he was possessed, but he apparently gave Pan a bit of a challenge—I'd say today is evidence that he's attained quite a bit of raw power and that he's compensating for it."

"Or maybe he's just really greedy," Chiaotzu said.

"Well, only time will tell. We'll see his eating habits over a long period of time—and we'll be able to determine whether it's necessary or not."

"A long period of time?" Chiaotzu asked in concern.

"You sound surprised, friend. I plan to give him a very complete education in martial arts starting from the beginning. That would take a few years at least."

Chiaotzu couldn't believe his ears. He'd have to deal with that man for years now? It was a very bleak future indeed, but Tien seemed all too ready to do it. At the very least, his friend would be happy and it wasn't often he got that way about things.

"Our food supply is going to take a hit, if that's the case," Chiaotzu said.

"I'm sure Malachi would be more than happy to help in that regard."

The two of them ate the rest of their food in silence as they finally enjoyed it without the spectacle of Malachi to distract them. For a moment, they fell back into a routine that Chiaotzu was very familiar with. He could imagine it was just the two of them again. Tien helped him wash the dishes and cleaned the kitchen before they stepped outside in the back for a mock fight. It was the most he'd done with Tien all day and Chiaotzu enjoyed every minute of it.

An hour later saw the two returning to the house well sweated.

"There's something I gotta ask you," Chiaotzu said before the other entered his room to take a shower.

"Yes?" Tien asked looking down at the other curiously.

"What do you see in him?"

"I see a human who could one day surpass us all."

Chiaotzu looked at the other wide eyed.

"I want to be the one who helps him reach his full potential."

"Even the Saiyans?" Chiaotzu asked looking at the other steadily now.

"Who knows? But I'm sure that guy would be willing to try."

That was certainly food for thought as Chiaotzu went to the bathroom in the hallway to take a shower. All was quiet when he exited half an hour later. Tien had turned in for the night and Malachi was supposedly already resting. He walked softly down the hall a little ways and stood beside the open door to the guest room to hear if the other was actually asleep. He realized after a moment that there was far too much creaking from the bed for the other to be resting. The noise would stop after a while, but then there would be more readjusting of comforters and pillows and more switching of positions on the bed. He wondered how long the other could possibly carry on like that. After a few minutes, Chiaotzu concluded that it was likely he'd continue this way for a good portion of the night.

When he heard the other sit up and then silence for a while, Chiaotzu took off and hid behind the couch in the living room, hoping the other hadn't noticed him. He held his breath waiting awhile until he thought the coast was clear. He was glad he waited for that one extra minute as he heard Malachi traversing across the living room and opening the front door. Curious, he peeked his head up just as the door was closed.

With a determined look, Chiaotzu followed the other outside only to find him sitting idly on the porch much to his surprise. He'd thought Malachi had decided on a late-night visit to Lilith's place.

"Guess there's always someone keeping tabs on me—you guys take turn or something?" Malachi asked clearly amused at his presence.

"No—well, I thought—You're supposed to be resting," Chiaotzu finished catching himself.

"As you can see, I'm having some trouble," he said with a sigh. He placed his head in his hands for a moment and then ran them down his face in what seemed like obvious exhaustion.

Chiaotzu wasn't sure he was understanding everything. "Why can't you sleep?"

"I suppose it's my just deserts. Humans are quite empathetic creatures—they can feel the pain of others having never experienced it themselves. I look back on my memories with a different set of eyes. What was once insignificant, haunts me every time I close my eyes. You understand, right?"

Chiaotzu shook his head, "Not really. You just have nightmares all the time?"

"That's exactly it. Simply put at least."

"Maybe the doctor will be helpful tomorrow," Chiaotzu thought aloud.

"We'll see."

Chiaotzu left the other to his own devices with a great deal more understanding of the other's situation. It seemed like he hadn't bothered to tell Tien, but it was probably intentional. He had few nightmares to date and it always happened when Tien was away helping the others fend off some new and terrible threat. They'd subside after a while and surely it would be the same for Malachi. Either way, it was in his interest to help him get better faster. The faster Tien could begin training him, the faster he could be rid of Malachi's presence and the hold he seemed to have over Tien's attention and fascination.

* * *

 **AN:** I knew so little about Chiaotzu that I had to look him up in Wikipedia, but I think this one turned out well. Just a little setting the scene chapter. I'm taking it a bit slow before I start time skipping otherwise this story could be obnoxiously long and I do want to get to that ending someday. Hope you enjoyed.

 **SierraLarson** **:** You must be reading my mind somehow.

 **maximusrexmundi** **:** Then you're going to love the next chapter;)


	25. The Melodious, Misunderstood Malachi

**Chiaotzu found Malachi in his room sitting up against the backboard scribbling fiercely on a notepad he didn't know the other had.** His curly hair was a messy mop upon his head and his covers and sheets looked chaotic and utterly disregarded upon the bed.

"Breakfast is ready," Chiaotzu said in a tone that wasn't nearly as high pitched as last time.

For a moment, he thought he was being ignored until the other finally ceased his writing and put the paper and pencil aside.

"Great, I was starving," he said as he climbed out of bed.

Malachi didn't join him immediately and Chiaotzu figured out why when he noticed the other was far more presentable at the table. He ate the food quickly before cleaning up the mess. Chiaotzu didn't stop him. He was sure the other would have put up more of a fuss anyway and he could care less who did what.

"Feeling any better today?" Chiaotzu asked after the other was finished. He was not moving any faster today.

"I feel just as shitty today as I felt yesterday."

"Well, then, let's head off to the doctor!" he said joyfully which drew a groan from Malachi.

"Let's hope it doesn't take all day—I still want to have some time to see Lilith today."

"Again? Going to buy more paintings?"

"Maybe." he said with a shrug. "Depends on what I feel like doing. This place far?"

"Nope, right down the street," Chiaotzu answered cheerfully despite himself.

"Convenient," Malachi muttered.

They left soon after and Chiaotzu was forced to slow down so that he could keep pace with the slow-moving Malachi. "Down the street" turned out to take much longer than he'd expected and Malachi was a bit winded by the time they got there. It wasn't a big office and it didn't seem to have too many patients in there that day. Three people were ahead of them so they waited to be seen.

Malachi was quite fidgety. After a few failed attempts at conversation, he grabbed a nearby magazine and began reading it. Chiaotzu didn't think he'd seen anyone read those things. They seemed more like decoration. In fact, he was the only one partaking in it. Everyone else was either on their phone or watching the passing images of the large television on the wall which was showing infomercial after infomercial of medical related supplies.

Chiaotzu glanced over at the magazine to find various girly things and bright colors featured on the page.

"Hm, this really the advice their giving tweens these days?" Malachi questioned to himself.

After a few minutes, he flipped to the next page. He was clearly amused with the subject matter as he grinned to himself. Then he began reading, giving it his full attention. Chiaotzu thought it a bit odd for a guy to be so interested in…well, it looked like girly stuff. The same guy that Tien would soon be training into oblivion.

Chiaotzu sat patiently and watched as each person was seen one by one. There truly was only one doctor and a handful of nurses and other relevant personnel. Malachi practically leaped to his feet when his name was called and Chiaotzu followed in after him when they were taken to the back area. When placed in a room, they waited a bit longer for a nurse to come and ask what they had come for. It was easy to see that he'd come simply to have his bandages replaced, but she suggested some bloodwork as well and a thorough examination of his injuries to see if everything was healing properly.

Their visit to the doctor would be taking far longer than Chiaotzu had originally foreseen. When they came to remove the bandages, Malachi winched every step of the way though he kept his cursing to a minimum in the presence of strangers. He was laid out on the table now and Chiaotzu was given a good view of the open wounds, some of which were still bleeding. The nurse cleaned each and every one of them. It was painful even to be a witness of the procedure.

"You said it's been a full 24 hours?" the nurse said as she applied more cleaning agent. "There should be more progress than this. Have you been taking it easy?"

"As much…as I can," Malachi managed to say through clenched teeth.

"He's having trouble sleeping," Chiaotzu chimed in. He turned away when Malachi gazed angrily at the other.

"I would think so. You're clearly in a lot of pain and you're not on any drugs," the nurse said. "I'll have the doctor prescribe you some pain medication."

"There's really no need."

"Oh, I get your type all the time now since that dojo opened. It doesn't make you any less tough if you're smart enough to take some good medical advice. The faster you heal, the faster you can get back to being at your healthiest and doing what you love most. The doctor will prescribe you something for the pain and maybe that's all you need to get some meaningful rest."

"But he has nightmares all the time—it's not really the pain that's keeping him up," Chiaotzu chimed in once again. He looked away when Malachi's frustrated look came his way.

"I'm glad your friend's here—you'll thank him later I'm sure. Whatever happened to you was quite traumatic. Quite frankly, I don't think I've seen this level of injury for some time now since the dojo put in stricter rules—I guess there's always one who falls through the crack. I'll suggest the doctor gives you something that will make you fall asleep easily."

She had the other sit up as she began on his other wounds and then as she began firmly placing on the bandages.

"The doctor will see you in just a moment," she said with a smile.

Malachi seemed too much in pain to return the favor. He was hunched over for a moment, but then he sat back on his extended arms behind him. He had nothing clever or even angry to say to him it seemed as they waited in silence for the doctor to come.

A tall, blond man with glasses in a white doctor's coat strolled in a few minutes later holding a clipboard with him. He sat down on the nearby chair.

"Seems like your body has been through an astounding amount of trauma in a short time," he began. "Your bloodwork came up clean—no infections, no inflammation or the like. I'd say you were pretty lucky. For the time being, lots of rest is in order and taking it easy. Make sure you're eating properly and you will be back to 100% in no time barring any complications. Your bandages will need to be changed on a daily basis either here or at home as they heal." Then he was writing quickly on the clipboard in front of him. He tore off a sheet a paper and handed it to Malachi who reached out gingerly to take it. "I've prescribed some pain medication at the lowest doses for starters and something that will knock you out quickly should you continue to feel restless. Any questions?"

"Ah, no—thank you for your time," Malachi said back this time managing a smile.

"Good," the doctor said standing up. "Count your blessings and have a good day," he said before leaving the room.

Chiaotzu looked up at the other with a raised eyebrow as he sat still for a moment before stepping down from the hospital bed.

"I'm fine," Malachi said looking at him as if to convince the other of something, "Will you stop looking at me like that?"

"Are you going to the pharmacy now?" Chiaotzu asked.

"Sure," he said after a moment. "Is that far from here?"

"Not too far—a thirty-minute walk, but at your pace more like an hour."

Malachi sighed heavily. "Fine let's go already."

They left the doctor's office and started down the street once again where few hover cars drove past. Truly it was a small town with most of the key places within walking distance from the residential area. Malachi's pace was somehow slower than it had been before, but soon it increased gradually much to Chiaotzu's partial relief—it was still much slower than he could move and he felt like he was getting nowhere. Chiaotzu floated behind the man to avoid conversation and in this way they traversed silently to the pharmacy.

Nearly an hour later, they arrived and they made a beeline for the pharmacy counter in the back. They were told to wait another thirty minutes for the prescription to be filled and it seemed Malachi no longer wanted to sit idly. Chiaotzu didn't mind doing such things, but he was forced to walk the aisles of the store with Malachi as he explored every inch of the place. He wound up getting a cart and placing quite a bit of items in the basket from toiletries to the slightly overpriced food items. Then he stayed in the hygiene section for the rest of the fifteen minutes meticulously reading over each product, placing one in the basket only to put it back and switching with another. It was enough to drive Chiaotzu crazy as he saw no reason why soap and water wasn't good enough to get the job done. In fact, over thirty minutes had passed by the time he finally decided on the last item which was cologne. He pretty much parsed through all of them before coming to a decision. Then they finally went to the line to check out all the items.

"Oh, hi, Chiaotzu, haven't seen you here in a while," the dark-haired lady said with a smile.

It took Chiaotzu a moment to realize that it was Launch. He'd forgotten she worked here. He and Tien usually shopped at the supermarket for everything including toiletries and cleaning products for the house. She looked much older than before with lines creasing her face, but she still had the same bubbly personality.

"Hey there—it's _has_ been awhile. How have you been?"

"Doing as well as expected, I suppose," she said as she began scanning items. "I'm surprised you're not with Tien—you guys seem attached at the hip. How's he doing?"

"Oh, he's fine—Putting in a lot of time at the dojo as always. I'd be with him too, but he told me to keep an out for this guy."

"You going to introduce me or what?" Malachi asked to Chiaotzu.

Launch laughed at the other. "Can't expect him to be well-versed in manners. I'm Launch, long-time friend of Tien."

"So you're the neighbor then," Malachi said. "I was meaning to go introduce myself."

"You must be new around here—I've never seen you before."

"I am and I'll probably be staying here for a while. I'm sure we'll be seeing more of each other."

"I doubt it," she said as she checked out the last item.

"Why is that?" Malachi said a little confused with her assertion.

"I've lived in that house for many years and Tien has never seen fit to visit me. There's only so many "strategic run-ins" a girl can do before she gets the picture."

"I wouldn't hold it against him—most men are pretty one-track and he seems pretty focused on his martial arts. Those kinds are the least troublesome, if you ask me."

"Quite one-track," Launch said with a grin. "I suppose I'll be seeing you then. Though I warn you, I work long hours here—store's been understaffed for a while now."

"I look forward to our future encounters."

Chiaotzu watched their exchange with mild interest. He didn't quite understand Malachi's insistence with meeting random people. Something about him always seemed ingenuine. None of it seemed to matter, not to anyone leastly to him. After the transaction was done and Malachi placed them all in a capsule, they returned to the back of the store to finally obtain the medication. Chiaotzu asked if he would take them now and Malachi brushed him off saying that he would at some point. He supposed that was the best he could get out of him, but if it became a problem, he would most certainly inform Tien.

They took the long trek back to the house with Malachi not moving any faster than he had earlier that day. Once there, he put all his newly bought items up in his room. Sensing that the other wanted to be left to himself for the time being, Chiaotzu stayed in the front room. Maybe he was finally heeding everyone's advice and resting. That was not the case, he soon realized, as he heard the shower being turned on. He wondered how he could manage such a thing with bandages he was supposed to keep dry. Soon, Malachi had joined him in the front of the house intending to leave once again.

"You just can't stay in one spot," Chiaotzu said shaking his head.

"I told you I meant to visit Lilith today and she expects me to anyway."

Chiaotzu noticed a different scent coming from Malachi, a strange flowery one. "So you put on perfume to smell nice for Lilith?" he accused the other.

"Not perfume," Malachi said with some annoyance.

"Cologne?" Chiaotzu further asked. "Trying to impress her with sweet smells?"

"Try scented soap," Malachi said as he moved towards the door, "I do enjoy smelling nice whether I was meeting someone or going nowhere at all. Rather depressing to see such a dull collection of soap around here. But I suppose I shouldn't be surprised."

Malachi left through the front door immediately after, probably uninterested in continuing to converse with him. Either way, Chiaotzu followed along as he was tasked to do. He hadn't expected keeping an eye on Malachi would require so much activity. Considering what he'd seen at the doctor's office, he was in a far more weakened condition than he was letting on—this he _would_ tell Tien on his return that evening.

Lilith allowed them entry into her house and she was clearly overjoyed to see them or more like Malachi, she hardly spared Chiaotzu a passing glance.

"I'm nearly finished with your portrait; come and see."

Chiaotzu didn't have a good view of it nor did he have any desire to see it.

"I think you've taken some liberties," Malachi said as he inspected the image, "His proportions are…far too perfect. This one looks far healthier than how I actually feel at the moment."

"It is _my_ interpretation of you—vibrant and intelligent, devilishly handsome. Do you like it?" she asked.

"It looks nice," he replied.

"Hm? I thought you liked flattery."

"I do, but this painting somehow makes me feel jealous."

"There's no need to feel that way," she declared, "I still have a few finishing touches to put on it. Will you be staying long today?"

"Might as well. I've nothing better to do."

"You know, Malachi, I've spent a good amount of time on this and it struck me as I finished the initial sketch: there's not enough coincidences in the world to explain your likeness to the man you bear the name of. You're actually him, aren't you?"

Malachi stood up a little straighter as he was done looking over her work. "What would you do if I said you were right?"

"Oh, don't worry, Malachi. Your secret would be safe with me. From one artist to another, I understand that there are times when you just want to take a break, spend some time away from the limelight."

"That," he said with a sigh, "is a relief. I suppose I'm not doing a great job being undercover."

"I'd say you were. Your hair is so delightfully curly, you're wearing normal pedestrian clothing, and you're not singing and dancing through the streets," she finished with a laugh. "Seriously, no one would suspect it's you. You had me fooled for quite a while. In fact, if you told me I was just seeing things, I might have believed you. No way anyone would think to find you in such a small town."

"Perhaps even the subtler disguises have their merits."

As she spoke with Malachi, Lilith continued working on the portrait. She continued in this way as Malachi soon disclosed to her what he'd been up to earlier that day including meeting Launch. It was here that Chiaotzu first heard Malachi mention some interest in whatever relationship she might have with Tien. That was when Chiaotzu chimed in.

"Tien doesn't really have time for the kind of relationship that Launch wants," he declared, finally drawing the two's attention.

"He merely thinks he doesn't have time," Malachi returned. "I've only been here two days and I have his entire routine down pat. It's a depressing fact."

"Don't tell me you're going to play matchmaker," Chiaotzu said with a frown.

"No, I'm going to play 'live a fulfilling life before one dies and regrets his decisions'-er," Malachi said back in mocking tones. "Do you have to belittle everything I do or say?"

"I've known Tien for a long time and he's the happiest he's ever been," Chiaotzu said.

"Is there a limit on happiness?" Malachi replied. "Love can be a powerful thing and it's different for each person. Sometimes people don't even know their missing it."

"But Tien—

"That isn't to say that I know more than the next person," Malachi said interrupting him. "I don't know him well enough, I don't know her well enough, but eventually I will and then we'll see."

Chiaotzu could tell that that was all he wished to speak on the topic. "eventually I will…": that phrase stood out to him and he began to understand why Malachi had shown such interest in Launch earlier that day. Was there always an ulterior motive? Did he genuinely care about that kind of thing? Or was there something else he was aiming for? It wasn't his habit to ponder so long about something and it was already giving him a headache just doing it. Malachi in general gave him a headache. He was an enigma and he didn't much like it. He preferred Tien precisely because he was the opposite. He never hid things and he always spoke his mind.

"So are you taking a break now?" Lilith asked. She sat turned to Malachi either done with her painting or completely distracted by Malachi.

"I would say so in the condition that I'm in."

"I don't mean to pry, but…"

"You want to know how I got this way—all bandaged up," he finished. "Believe it or not—I got into a fight that I couldn't win."

"Oh my god, really? There's someone out there brazen enough to get into a physical altercation with you?" she said with surprise.

"Everyone has their enemies whether they know it or not."

"Ah, yes," she said in agreement. "I bet you must have acquired a lot of naysayers. The more famous you are, the more people want to have an issue with you. Blow things out of proportion. I see it all the time on TV. And you're certainly not a fighter."

Malachi chuckled at this, but didn't bother correcting her.

"What's so funny?" she asked in confused tones.

"People do blow things out of proportion which is why I always have to be careful what I say and how I say it."

"You don't have to worry about that here," Lilith reassured. "I promise I'll treat you like any other person—but I must confess, I really do like your music. Especially your early songs."

"How early?" he inquired.

"Like your second and third album. Everything was much softer, more naïve then. I guess it's just a nostalgia thing."

"Well, music must evolve or else it becomes stagnant."

"Yes, yes," she said with a sigh. "It's a sad, but true fact. Everyone loses that naiveté at some point."

"I was told to act a certain way back then," Malachi confessed, "To be as youthful as possible. By the time I made those albums, I knew far more about the world than I ever wanted to know."

"It's like I'm getting an exclusive—I don't think I've read that fact anywhere. It was all just an act?"

"Not all, but things were exaggerated."

Chiaotzu's eyes were already glazing over at this point. Their conversation had as usual turned uninteresting as they started talking about music. Music wasn't a big part of Chiaotzu's life. In fact, he hardly encountered it. He didn't even own a device with which to listen to it.

"You know," Lilith began slowly, "I have a piano in the back."

"Really? You know how to play that thing?" Malachi asked clearly interested in the instrument.

"Mom sent me to piano lessons when I was very young. She expected me to do something with it, but, well, you know how that turned out. My heart was in painting. And music is just a hobby."

"I've always wanted to learn how to play it," Malachi admitted, "But it never worked out that way. I was so busy all the time—I just never really had the time."

"Well, looks like you have all the time in the world now…and a willing teacher."

"You'd teach me?" Malachi asked skeptically.

"Only if you…sing one of my favorite songs. I'll play it on the piano. Maybe you'll remember."

"Ah, an old song. I think I might."

"You're up for it?—I don't want to be too much of a bother—

"It's the least I can do for being such good company."

Chiaotzu watched the two disappear to the back. For a moment, he stayed there, but then his curiosity won out as he heard the sounds of a piano floating through the house. It wasn't a fast song that one could dance to, but mellow and slow. Admittedly, it sounded quite pleasing.

"I think I remember this one," Malachi said as the music paused so that he could be heard, "Though, I've never heard it played like this."

"I arranged it myself for the piano. I've always dreamed of you somehow singing to this version instead."

"Well, today, your wish will be granted."

The woman was beside herself with excitement as she started over again. She had to start it over yet again when Malachi apparently missed the part he was supposed to come in—something about the measures being a bit different from the original, Chiaotzu didn't quite understand. Eventually, however, Chiaotzu heard Malachi sing for the first time and he was unprepared for the voice that emitted from him. His speaking voice was reasonably deep. His pleasant tones always had a ring of falseness to it and when he spoke to him it sounded quite belittling. What Chiaotzu heard at that moment was the complete opposite. Innocent and young with an air of wonder—quiet, almost shy and then at some parts loud and excited. All the while his voice remained steady and smooth.

 _Hello, August moon, where are the stars of the night?_  
 _You promised me too soon, 'cause it's been cloudy all night_  
 _And the weatherman said if you're not well, stay in bed_  
 _'Cause I've been feeling down and blue and it's cloudy in my head_  
 _Instead of going out to some restaurant, I stay home in bed_

The piano changed a bit as the song moved on to the hook in which Lilith herself joined in to sing as well. It seemed she couldn't resist. It became obvious to Chiaotzu that she knew all the words by heart.

 _But I'll be loving you, that's what I want to do_  
 _I'll be loving you, that's what I want to do_

The hook was short and sweet and then ran right back into another verse in which Malachi sang now with even more confidence than he had before. Chiaotzu couldn't tell if it was because it was meant to be sang this way or that he simply knew this verse better than the last.

 _Hello, midnight lover, you're the one I adore_  
 _And I'll be thinking of you 'til the stars are no more_  
 _If it's cloudy or blue, I'll stay here with you_  
 _We'll make a wish, and then we'll kiss, our love forever true_  
 _Instead of going out to some restaurant, I'll stay here with you_

The song moved back into the hook in which Lilith sang happily with Malachi. Though her voice wasn't as trained as Malachi, Chiaotzu supposed it didn't sound too bad and Malachi, himself, didn't seem all that concerned about it. For the first time, however, Chiaotzu saw a real smile from him, at least it seemed that way. It seemed like he was actually enjoying himself. They went through a third verse and then a partial repeat of the first verse, finally ending on many repeats of the hook. At some point, Malachi was simply adlibbing as Lilith happily sang through the same words multiple times. Chiaotzu didn't feel part of any of it. He was simply an onlooker of two people singing to each other. It certainly made his absence from Tien's side that much harder to bear.

Chiaotzu was about to leave them to themselves, but paused when he saw the way Lilith was looking at Malachi and he vice versa. It was Lilith who pulled the other closer to her to give the other a kiss. At which point, Chiaotzu looked away. It took him a moment to realize that the kiss never happened.

"I shouldn't," Malachi said.

"Oh," she said with an awkward laugh. "I guess that makes sense. I guy like you…probably already with some lucky girl. I was just being silly—"

"No, that wasn't silly. I didn't mean to give you the wrong impression. It's just a song and I've sang many more like it."

"Yeah, I know," she said settling down on the bench she sat on. "I don't know what came over me. You definitely fulfilled your side of the bargain. How would you like to learn how to play this thing?"

"I would love to," he said as he moved to sit down beside her.

That was how the rest of their visit went with Lilith teaching him the basics of piano and Chiaotzu was forced to hear the same few notes being played over and over again in no real pattern. It was enough to make him pull his hair out—if he had enough of it to do that sort of thing. Chiaotzu was glad to finally leave the messy house and return to his well-kept one. He'd only been able to drag Malachi out because he claimed he had to make dinner and that it'd be better if Tien didn't find him out when he should be resting. Cooking at least, was still able to ease his mind.

* * *

 **It had been awhile since his thoughts had turned to Bra, but since Lilith had leaned in to kiss him, Bra was all he could think about.** He'd wanted to kiss Bra that way. He wanted her to look at him the same way Lilith had. Those feelings had all come so suddenly. In fact, truth be told, he'd intended to woo the woman next door. It would be an easy task and he could abate his growing loneliness. Despite not ever considering pursuing a more meaningful relationship until that time which he crossed paths with Bra, he never slept alone. He preferred the company of a woman and he would form trifle bonds with doe-eyed women who seemed to worship the ground he walked on. It was all for selfish reasons. He hated being alone. He hated being left alone to his own dark thoughts. Sometimes his mind would simply go into overdrive having nothing of substance to latch onto, no real challenge to solve. He'd wound up going over his day in excruciating detail over and over again.

As he sat down on Tien's living room couch listening to Chiaotzu's cooking, he pulled out his phone and flicked through his many contacts. He selected Bra Briefs and waited for her to answer. He didn't hear the phone ring, he didn't hear anything, only silence. He sat there for a few moments with the phone to his ear, ended the call, and then tried the number again. Nothing. Unperturbed, he called the one person he knew would be able to help him.

"Hello?" came Vegeta's gruff voice.

"That has to be the most pleasant greeting you've given yet," Malachi said as a grin stole across his face.

"And somehow you always make me regret answering your calls."

"Oh, please, I know you look forward to them—don't worry, your secret is safe with me," Malachi answered cheekily.

"You sound far better now than you did two days ago," Vegeta pointed out, "Seems your early departure was a good decision."

"I can tell when I'm not wanted and I didn't want to prolong things. It's nice to hear your gruff, annoyed voice again."

"Hmph."

"I called because I ran into a problem trying to contact Bra—she must have changed her number."

"She has? That's news to me. Hold on, let me check something." Malachi waited a few minutes before Vegeta said something further. "She sent out a mass text yesterday about her number change."

"A mass text, huh. Maybe she lost her phone."

"She hasn't," Vegeta said plainly, "She's had that number since Bulma first bought her a cellphone. There's really no reason for her to change it so suddenly."

"Do you know…why?" Malachi asked.

"I think you know why," Vegeta replied. "But I will still give you her new number. Don't make me regret it."

"Thank you," Malachi said.

Malachi memorized Bra's new number and then quickly dialed it next. The phone rang for ages and then went to voicemail. He called again and was met the same results. Then he continued to call her until she finally picked up her cellphone.

"Yes?" Bra asked in irritated tones. "Is there a reason you keep calling like that or have the telemarketers seriously lost their minds? I wanted some damn peace and quiet and—"

"Bra calm down—it's me," Malachi finally spoke up.

She paused abruptly and for almost a full minute there was silence. "Malachi? How did you get this number?"

"I have my ways," he said back smoothly.

"So you're stalking me now?"

"Just add that onto the list of my other offences."

"Tell me why I shouldn't just hang this phone up and disconnect this number."

"Because you miss me and you've been waiting for me to call you."

"Sometimes your confidence is astounding."

"Am I wrong?" he asked.

"I've had no intentions of calling you, Malachi. Just like you never had any intentions of coming back home. I waited for you and you just ignored me—continued on with your stupid plan. I couldn't believe what you did to Majuub, to Dende who saved your life—"

"I didn't call to talk about that," Malachi said cutting across her. "I wanted to know how you were doing."

There was silence on the other side for so long that Malachi wondered if she really had hung up. "I'm fine—you don't need to worry about me."

"How is your pregnancy coming along?"

"Malachi, I can't do this. We all know that you're just putting on an act. For what reason, I don't know, but you don't have to do it anymore. Unless you really think I'm that stupid."

"What are you going on about—?" He was already in uncharted territory and he felt claws tearing down his well-kept façade. He was so used to it that he felt naked without it and he felt compelled to carry on in that vein.

"Don't you dare try to pretend like I have no idea what I'm talking about. I know who you truly are and I don't want any part of it."

"I don't know how else to say it, Bra. I was thinking about you and I wanted to know how you were doing. Are you really just going to leave me in the dark?" He'd closed his eyes now wishing she would just answer him like he wanted.

"I see you're still deflecting. I realized something when I came to see you after Pan called me. I saw a side to you that I kept ignoring and pretending wasn't there."

"What does it matter?" Malachi asked with increasing irritation. "I still care about you."

"What does it matter?" Bra parroted back at him. "It changes everything, Malachi. I don't know who you are anymore. I thought I could just…pretend that it's just you, but that's not true. And I don't even know if I can just blame that creature thing. The more I think about it, the more I wonder if you've ever been open with me. Maybe this entire thing is just a hoax."

Now his eyes were clenched shut and he began to wonder if he should have called her at all. Maybe he should have just left things as they were, left up in the air not really knowing how she felt about things only that she no longer wanted to talk to him.

"Malachi? Are you even listening?"

He sighed when he heard her questioning tone. She was pulling away from him. Better yet, she _had_ pulled away from him. Did it even matter now? He could end things now. Hang up on her and cut his losses. He hadn't married her. She would just be another single mother, one of millions. It wasn't as if she really needed him in the first place especially not financially. That child would be well taken care of whether he was in that child's life or not.

"Malachi? Seriously, I'm just going to hang up."

"Then why don't you? You could have done so ages ago and yet here we are still carrying on." Why was his hands shaking like this? Why had his breath caught in his throat?

"This is you giving up, isn't it?" Bra said slowly.

"Bra, please…I'm too tired for all of this," Malachi said with a sigh.

"You're not giving me much to work with," she argued back.

"How about, I'm _really_ concerned about you?"

"You can stay concerned for all I care. I don't even know who you are anymore."

" _I_ don't even know who I am anymore."

There was a span of silence before Bra said anything more. "Then how can I trust you anymore?"

"I don't know," Malachi said after another moment. He realized he had nothing to say in his own defense. He hadn't come to argue with her or defend his actions of the past. He didn't realize until that moment just how ruined his relationship was with her. He was also in uncharted territory as it was usually he who ended things with too clingy girls. Funny, how the roles were switched.

"Please don't call me anymore."

"Bra, wait—"

The call ended abruptly and Malachi simply sat there in silence staring at his phone. He hadn't even noticed the passage of time until the sound of the front door opening interrupted his apparent numbness. He heard Tien's voice in the distance talking with Chiaotzu now, but soon Tien addressed Malachi inquiring about his day.

"Fine," Malachi simply said. He didn't feel like expounding. He didn't feel like superficially carrying on a conversation—a pastime of his.

"Well, alright," Tien said after a moment, obviously noticing something off about his response.

Good thing Chiaotzu was there to further discuss things. Yes, he'd gone to the doctor. Yes, he'd been prescribed some medication which now sat in his room. The doctor had suggested he have his bandages changed daily. Though they were talking about him, he did not feel like including himself in that conversation. He sensed that it was a bit awkward, but he could not muster up enough care about it to change things.

When the dinner was ready, he joined the comparatively jovial pair at the table. Malachi noticed that there was quite a bit of food set out. Chiaotzu really had outdone himself this time. It smelled appetizing enough, but he only wound up eating only a small portion of it before finding the task too mundane to continue. Then he simply left the table wordlessly for his resident maids to clean up. His plate was half-eaten and even this didn't bother him all that much. He ignored their stares and made his way to his room.

The bright, hopeful painting of the phoenix greeted his eyes before he fell onto his bed. For the first time, he was able to sleep with no issues whatsoever as he sank into a deep slumber.

* * *

 **AN:** Training hasn't even started and things are already going terribly. Likely his little "vacation" will be anything but.

 **Wine:** Smart version of Forrest Gump...Guess I'll keep that in mind?


	26. Melancholic

**Chiaotzu waited and waited for Malachi to wake, but he simply did not, even by the time it was noon and breakfast was cold.** He made his way to the room and noticed that the other hadn't moved an inch since he'd checked on him a little earlier.

After Malachi had left Tien and Chiaotzu so abruptly last night, they were left stupefied for quite some time unable to figure out his obvious mood change. He'd barely eaten anything and had said even less. Chiaotzu didn't claim to know Malachi all that well, but even he could tell that something was off about him.

"Did something happen today?" Tien asked Chiaotzu with a raised eyebrow.

"Well…" Chiaotzu began thoughtfully, "I heard him on the phone earlier. Sounded like he was talking to Vegeta and then it sounded like he was talking to Bra."

"I see," Tien said returning to his meal.

Chiaotzu looked at him confused when he noticed the other seemed satisfied with his answer. "I don't get it—what happened?"

"Case and point why I choose not to deal with women, at least not like that. Situations become far more complicated than they need to be—it's not conducive to a sound mind and body. Obviously, something happened between those two. I was told she was carrying as well, probably not the most stable at the moment. If you think about," Tien said as he placed his fork down, "Neither one of them are."

"So…is there anything we can do about it?"

"Unless you've come up something—no. I'm sure whatever it is will soon pass."

Needless to say, there had been tons of leftover yesterday night and they were barely able to fit it into the refrigerator. Tien had all but shrugged when he asked how they might remedy the situation with Malachi. Now he found himself shaking Malachi vigorously to wakefulness. It was his last resort as time continue to pass. If there was one thing that Chiaotzu was sure about, Malachi needed to keep his strength up so he definitely should not be skipping meals.

Malachi was soon looking up at him through parted slits with furrowed eyebrows. "Wha…what?" he growled at him with a scratchy voice.

"Breakfast," Chiaotzu said pointing at the plate he'd placed on the table next to him, "Eat it. It's getting late. Then we gotta get your bandages changed."

Malachi slowly sat up in the bed, pushing the balls of his palms against his eyes. "I'll just tell them to make a house call. Walking over there each day? Ridiculous."

"I don't know if they do that kinda thing if it isn't an emergency," Chiaotzu said.

"If I pay them enough money, you'll be surprised at the kinds of things people are willing to do for you," he said with a grin though Chiaotzu did not find his comment amusing in the least. He looked to the plate now. "Overcooked as usual."

"Are you really gonna' keep saying that?" Chiaotzu asked with a frown.

"Yes. Maybe one day you'll actually _do_ something about it. Sometimes it takes longer for hardheaded people to accept criticism."

"You're just full of good vibes today, huh."

"Oh, you have no idea," he said drily. "Now stop staring and give me some privacy—unless watching me eat is the highlight of your day."

Chiaotzu took this as his cue to leave as he turned to the exit. "Fine, but you better eat all of it," he said with a huff.

He only glanced back once to see Malachi's amused expression before leaving altogether. He knew he held little to no authority over Malachi, but he still felt compelled to order him around. It was hard not to. He seemed to insist on doing the wrong thing rather than the right thing. Chiaotzu wasn't afraid of him in the least for some reason. Though he wasn't a pleasant person, he never seemed like he would physically hurt him in any way. Only time would tell if his intuition was correct.

Chiaotzu sat down in the living room waiting for the other to appear from the back eventually. If not for getting his bandages changed, to see Lilith again or talk to Launch at the store. Or better yet, try some other random house to strike up conversation. Instead of Malachi appearing, however, there was a knock on the door that startled Chiaotzu out of his reverie. Cautiously, he floated over and peeped through the peephole to find a woman dressed in a nurse's uniform.

"Yes?" Chiaotzu called out.

"I'm here for Malachi. This is Nurse Jennifer from the hospital down the street," she said back.

Surprised though still dubious, Chiaotzu slowly opened the door. "Yeah, he's here. Let me show you to him."

"Oh, you're the kid that was with him last time," she said with a generous smile that set his mind at ease. "How is he doing? Has he been good?"

"He's doing fine, I guess. And I made sure he wasn't doing anything too extraneous."

"That's good to hear. I would hate to be doing all this work for nothing. We have a surprising number of stubborn patients these days—ever since that dojo opened. It's good that they're improving their overall health, but when things go awry treatment is like pulling teeth."

"Well, Tien definitely believes in doctors. If Malachi's giving you a hard time, let me know."

"It should be fine. Very rarely do people call for us to come to their home."

"He's down the hall, second door on the right," he informed the other.

Chiaotzu watched the cheerful woman make her way to her patient hoping Malachi would behave somewhat and that the visit would go smoothly. He supposed he didn't have too much to worry about. He'd been cordial enough on their first doctor's visit. He once again sat down in the living room silently wishing that he was at Tien's side again training. The nurse left in record time, but she seemed fine and had nothing but glowing reviews to give him on his way out. She'd be coming in regularly for the time being. Chiaotzu had to admit that such arrangements were convenient. As soon as she was gone, he heard Malachi call out for him and he was obligated to see what he wanted. Just in case it was something dire.

"I want you to go out and buy me some things," Malachi said upon seeing him.

Chiaotzu sighed exasperatedly. Now he really was feeling like a servant. Malachi handed him a credit card which took him by surprise. "You sure you want be handing me this?"

"Why not? I'll know exactly what you're buying—and if you decide to do something stupid with my money, well, you'd certainly like me a lot less than you do now."

For whatever reason, that particular threat seemed far scarier than any heated or annoyed look he'd given him in the past. "So what do you want?"

Malachi went down a small list of items: pens, speakers, a laptop, and a deck of playing cards. Chiaotzu wondered why he couldn't just go get them himself, but didn't dare ask him at this point. Maybe later when he was in a better mood.

Chiaotzu zipped out of the house and down the street before making a turn to arrive at the supermarket nearby. There he easily found the items on the list, paid for it with the swanky black credit card, and zipped back down the street with the items in a one-use capsule. He waited to hear some thanks from Malachi as he made it back in what he believed was record time, but he didn't even bother with such things. He just wanted to know that he'd gotten everything and sent him on his way. He'd been talking on his phone as well too, but from what he could tell, it had not been with Bra. It sounded more like business than anything else.

That was really all he'd heard from Malachi for a while. He never left the house and when Chiaotzu checked in on him before he started reheating the food, he was sound asleep and music was coming from the speakers though it wasn't loud enough to bleed through the walls. He shrugged at this—even if it seemed odd, at least he was actually doing the thing everyone had been telling him to do since he first got here. All it took was a depressing phone call from Bra.

Tien came in and Chiaotzu was once again happy to see him. Today he'd gotten a new student—a female. He didn't think she'd last long just like all the other women who'd briefly taken up his classes. Already, she performed at a level lower than even his other beginners. From Chiaotzu's experience, this was always the case though he wasn't entirely sure why.

Chiaotzu was setting the food out eventually before having to actually wake Malachi for dinner—it was an odd change of pace. Luckily, it didn't take much to rouse him. Just like yesterday, Malachi spoke little at the table though Tien tried to get more out of him. He ate little and then left them abruptly. Tien had simply let it happen yesterday, but Chiaotzu could tell from the look in his eyes that he was starting to get annoyed. Chiaotzu didn't want there to be an argument—he hated them with a passion—but things did seem to be leading up to it.

They finished and cleaned up, but instead of heading outside for some sparring, Tien stopped by Malachi's room. Chiaotzu stood to the side.

"Planning on starving yourself?" Tien asked forwardly.

Malachi had been scribbling away on his notepad again, but looked up when Tien spoke and then turned down the music.

"No—why do you ask?" he returned without any hesitance.

"Just tell me what's bothering you," Tien said, cutting to the chase in his usual fashion.

"Nothing for you to concern yourself with," he answered as his pen starting moving again.

"It's about Bra, isn't it?"

Then the pen stopped. His expression hardened when he looked at Tien again. "And if it is, I doubt you'd have any useful advice to give me."

"You write me off so quickly and you haven't even heard what I have to say."

"Well? I'm listening."

"You're here, away from everyone else in a town with no familiar faces. You can start anew and eliminate all other distractions from your life."

"Predictable," Malachi said after a moment. "Judging from how you keep your house—you've certainly 'eliminated all distractions'. I didn't expect _good_ advice from a guy who's been stringing along that lady next door for many, many years it seems like. Now she lives alone and looks sad even when she manages to smile. And Chiaotzu enjoys kissing your ass too much to ever learn to lead a life of his own. No, neither of you could possibly have any sound advice. So if you excuse me, I will wallow in self-pity and despondency until such time that I'm strong enough to withstand what will likely be your brutal training."

Unperturbed at the other's digs, Tien replied. "In the state that you are—you will never be able to withstand my training even after you have recovered."

"We'll just have to see, won't we," Malachi said as he returned to his notepad, already continuing to write.

Chiaotzu could only guess that it was some sort of diary he was writing in, but Malachi didn't exactly seem the type to keep up that sort of thing. Tien watched him for a moment longer, but then the two of them were heading outdoors again for a spar. This time, however, things were a little different and Chiaotzu could tell immediately as he was actually able to land a blow on his partner. Tien was, in fact, quite distracted. He apologized and then ended their spar early. Obviously, he was not in the mood.

Chiaotzu wondered if Malachi's mood would affect them all.

* * *

After cramming down as much food as he could down his throat, though he didn't manage to empty his plate, and after another painful session of having his bandages changed, Malachi did nothing more than pull out his laptop and stay on the internet. Though the house itself didn't have it, using his phone as a conduit, it was no issue at all for him. Music was playing as well and he'd chosen a playlist which featured many Bobby Caldwell hits and plenty of other artists he could listen to on repeat.

He didn't want to think, he wanted to be utterly distracted by trivial things, by the problems of others, by pretty things, by ugly things—anything. This must have continued for hours though he hardly acknowledged the passage of time at this point.

"I love this song," Lilith's voice said.

He looked up at the sound of it and saw her standing in the doorway smiling gently at him.

"I've missed you. It's been a couple of days since you visited. Is everything alright?"

"I would have come to see you eventually. I've just had other things on my mind," he said.

She entered the room and boldly sat down on the side of the bed. "Like what?" she asked innocently.

Her eyes were alert and she seemed to genuinely want to know what was on his mind. The same woman who had told him that he was perfect and complimented him way too much. Her very presence made him feel better about himself in a way that he'd been unable to do for a while now. That was probably because he'd not told her everything about himself. If she knew…

"The woman who I was with decided it would be better if we parted ways."

Lilith looked at him with a shocked expression. "I can hardly imagine anyone saying something like that to you."

"With all due respect, you don't know me very well. I guess I can't really blame her—I'm not the same person I used to be."

"We all change, Malachi. That's just something that should be expected. Even now," she said with a smile, "You're certainly a bit different from when I first met you and it hasn't been very long."

"When I say change, it's bit more drastic than being in a different mood—"

"I know, silly. Surely, it had to be something serious. How long were you with her?" she inquired.

"Almost two years. It's the longest I've ever dated anyone. I wanted to marry her. I still do. But…knowing her she already has her eye on some other guy. It's hard to keep her attention for long. I never told her this, but I've ran into quite a few of her ex's—all of them kicked to the wayside. They were little more than accessories to her and once they were no longer interesting, she moved on to the next one. Just like me, it seems."

"To stay with someone for so long—you must have liked something about her."

Malachi smiled briefly and looked away from the other. "Eventually, I liked everything about her. And when I met her family—I adored them. I wanted to be part of that family even though I'd never seen myself part of anyone's family before. I don't expect that to ever happen again. The way she sounded on the phone—it sounded final. She expected something from me that I could not promise without it being a lie again."

"I'm sorry," Lilith said sadly. "Sometimes things don't work out like we plan it no matter what we do."

"Is that something you learned from experience?" he asked as he noticed her knowing look.

"Yes," she replied, "Many experiences. I do like it better when you smile," she said when he'd grinned at her reply.

"No need to flatter me so much. I hardly look presentable."

She reached over and pushed a curly strand of hair from his face. "If only you could see yourself how I see you—you'd never think that."

Malachi noticed that she'd leaned in a bit closer to him. He was close enough to see the dark brown of her irises and a smell that was a mix of paint and pencils, but it wasn't overpowering. Before he knew it, she'd closed the distance and her lips were pressed against his. He only let it go on for a moment before he was pushing her away.

"What are you doing?" he said with a sigh. "Is that the real reason you came?"

"Well, no," Lilith admitted, "But it seemed like you really needed it. Something tells me that you don't like to be alone for very long."

She was turned towards him and her hands were placed on the bed to leverage herself forward. She climbed onto the bed now, moving the laptop aside so that she could straddle his form.

"Geez, woman," he said.

"You can tell me to stop at any time," she said with a grin.

He didn't. He couldn't bring himself to do it as she drew closer to him and he allowed himself to fall into a kiss with her. He was already excited as she moved down his neck. Then he stopped her again as his mind started working again.

"Don't worry, I'm on birth control," she said as if reading his mind. "Seriously, I am. This is just…a one-time thing, alright."

"I suppose you haven't given me a reason to think you're lying."

She smiled at him and returned to her previous activities. "Tonight, will be all about you."

* * *

 **AN:** I would have had this out sooner but Fanfiction has been acting funny on my end. But the wait is over.

 **SierraLarson:** I'm working on it. Lol. Blonde Launch was far less intense in DBZ.


	27. Magnificent Machi

**Malachi's health improved in leaps and bounds as the months wore on.** His appetite had returned promptly and Chiaotzu soon fell into a routine of cooking large amounts of food at breakfast and dinner. Malachi was all too willing to foot the growing food bill. Eventually, Chiaotzu returned to joining Tien at the dojo as Malachi seemed strong enough to take care of himself and because he had insisted. In a few more months, Malachi would be able to begin his training with Tien and he was looking forward to it.

He spent much of his time resting, but whenever he could he was at Lilith's place learning piano from her. They'd grown closer. She spoke more openly about herself, about her family and life. He did as well. Even though he could tell that she was infatuated with him, he decided to keep their relationship strictly as friends. He had no intentions of becoming committed to anyone at this time no matter if they worshipped the ground he walked on—which was Lilith to a T. Still, he enjoyed her company. Otherwise, he'd have no one worthwhile to talk to unless he went out of his way to befriend other total strangers. The town seemed to have an inordinate amount of bald headed muscular guys and they were all simple-minded men that Malachi would have no pleasure in speaking with. One bald headed muscular guy was enough for him. And on that topic, Malachi would _not_ be shaving his head no matter what. He hadn't planned to give Tien a hard time, but if he insisted, then he would adamantly resist such drastic changes. So far, the topic hadn't come up and he hoped it stayed that way.

He'd left Lilith's place early that day as he'd grown tired already and he did not want to fall asleep at her place again. He'd done that a couple times before, but it always gave her the wrong idea and that woman was hard to resist once she got going…On the short trek back to Tien's place, his phone rang. To his surprise, his caller ID read _**Bra**_. He stopped in his tracks and answered it before it could ring again.

"Yes?" Malachi asked as polite as possible.

"It's Bra—I'm sure you noticed from your caller ID. I didn't change my number by the way."

"That was…considerate of you."

There was silence and then crackling as she probably sighed. "She was born last week with no complications and her name is Machi."

"That's a beautiful name," he said.

Bra snorted, "You're just saying things just to say them again."

"No, really. It means fortunate child in another language."

"And how do you know this?" Bra asked.

"Maybe I spent more time than I care to admit looking up names. It's one I would have chosen. Though I'm surprised you didn't wound up calling her Pants or Shirt," he finished jokingly.

Bra only allowed herself to laugh for a moment before stopping herself. "I would never give my daughter such a horrible name. Some traditions aren't meant to be carried on. Do you want to see her?" she asked.

"Of course, I do."

"Well then, our doors are open to you for a visit. Were it not for my parents pestering me, I'd wait _much_ longer before inviting you over."

"I will thank them profusely then when I come over tomorrow."

"Tomorrow? Isn't that a bit…sudden? Are you sure you're up to it?" she asked.

"It's been awhile, Bra. How long do you really think it takes for someone to recover?"

"Fine—I'll see you soon."

Just like that, he was in a good mood. He'd heard her voice again and she hadn't been angry. He'd managed to say the right things. Not that he was holding a flame out for her, but he did not like how things were left last time. And, of course, there was the child, his child, their child who he could now picture a little better since he knew the gender. He hadn't even seen her yet the thought of her existing, well and healthy, set his mind at ease. He felt warm all over knowing that it had all been successful. Married or not, there was someone at the very least who would carry on his genes long after he was no more. She was no longer a fetus but a person, alive and breathing.

Later on that day, Malachi informed Tien what he'd be doing tomorrow which drew only a lukewarm response from him. He'd never stop him from visiting, but Malachi could tell that he disapproved of the distraction.

* * *

 **Bra was not looking forward to Malachi's arrival.** She'd made a decision on that day when she was able to peer behind his mask if only for a short time. Her mother had called it a rash decision—she'd been too emotional to think things through, but Bra begged to differ. When he'd called her after she'd changed her number, it had confirmed her suspicions. They couldn't see him the way she could. Even her father wasn't exactly on board with her decision since she was sure he was the one who'd given Malachi her new number.

She'd had her hands full with the pregnancy. Though the birthing itself had gone off without a hitch at least according to everyone else including her doctor, it was not an experience she wished to repeat. Even now she was still sore from the entire ordeal and she did not like what she saw in the mirror when she removed her clothes. Her mother said it was perfectly natural along with the doctor, but that did not mean she liked it. The constant nausea had ended a couple months before the due date; of that she was thankful. Everything else seemed to ache—in reality at this point, her breasts were quite tender and using the restroom had never seemed so torturous. She was in no mood to be dealing with Malachi's shenanigans.

To top things off, Machi would not stop crying. Only when she was being fed her formula or sleeping did she stop, but lately it had gotten worse as she grew a bit more active after the first week. She was glad to have brought the crying, screaming child into this world, but were it not for the ones around her, she had no idea how she would have coped. She liked to believe she would have done well in spite of, but if she was being truthful….Well, she didn't like to think about it. Her respect had grown for her own mother knowing that her father had not been there at first. Then again, Bunny had been there and she seemed like the epitome of a housewife. She could never see herself being as mothering as her.

Machi, at the moment, was crying once again. Her room was right next to hers so that she could have easy access to her room along with her obnoxious cacophony. Her eyes were usually scrunched shut with all her tears, but every once in a while, she could see her baby's bright blue eyes and hair that appeared to be a rusty brown or a burgundy color. She'd wondered if she'd been given the right baby upon first seeing her. Neither she nor Malachi had that coloring. Then she remembered that though she could account for her own family, Malachi's was a complete mystery and it was likely to stay that way. She'd expressed some interest in finding out more about that once upon a time, but Malachi was so unhelpful in that pursuit that she could tell that he cared little about it. "What would it change?" he'd tell her when she became frustrated with him. Now the way things stood, if it was true that his DNA was literally altered since that time he was possessed, then it would be impossible now to find out conclusively.

When would he be arriving, she wondered as the sun grew higher and she held Machi in her arms feeding her for a few moments of peace. As soon as she placed her back down in her sinfully plush crib, she returned to her crying. Then just like that, she felt his presence somewhere close by, in fact right behind her. She turned and beheld him standing in the doorway leaning against the doorframe just as handsome and confident as the day she met him even amidst all the noise Machi was making. How had she missed him arriving at the place?—Her thoughts must have occupied her more than she thought.

He was smiling at her not at all upset or even bothered by the scene before him.

"Nice of you to finally show up," Bra said breaking the silence.

"Well, I didn't want to arrive too early—then you'd know how eagerly I've been awaiting this day," he said as he walked forward.

"Still trying to save face," she said with a grin.

"Force of habit," he said as he arrived at the crib. All the while, Machi was still bawling her eyes out as Malachi peered down at her. "Geez, do you have enough blankets in there?"

"Is _that_ all you have to say about this? How about you save the day and get her to stop crying."

"I was getting to that," he said unperturbed. After a moment longer of observing Machi, he looked over at Bra. "Can I…hold her? I made sure to be extra germ-free today."

Bra looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "Yeah, of course you can. Did you think I'd tell you no?"

He smelled as he usually did of scented soap and clean laundry. Though she determined long ago that he was not a germaphobe, he did like to smell nice all the time and took far more showers than she ever did if he had the time for it. That he felt the need to ask her clued her in on his nervousness.

"I'd rather be safe than sorry," he replied as his eyes returned to Machi.

"You even know how to hold a baby?"

"Contrary to popular belief, yes I do."

She looked at him a little confused trying to remember how he would know such things. In the meantime, she watched as he easily lifted the baby and cradled her in his arms like a natural. It was certainly something he'd done before.

"You're so small…" he said to himself, but she could hear him even over the baby. He placed an index finger close to Machi's small hands and she automatically clasped onto his finger. "What's wrong? Why are you so sad?" She responded, of course, with more crying.

Bra wondered why she thought he would be able to make a difference. Her temperament had not changed in the least since he held her. Perhaps she'd gotten carried away with that story her mother had told about her father being the only one able to calm her every time she got into one of her moods.

"Maybe you'd like to hear a song? Hm? I'll take that as a yes." He swayed a little as he held her. "Let me think for a moment…something you might like to hear."

He took his sweet time thinking of something and Bra was getting a headache from all the noise. Then he began to sing softly. As he did so, she thought she'd heard that song before, but it certainly wasn't one of his songs.

 _Come with me_  
 _And you'll be_  
 _In a world of_  
 _Pure imagination_  
 _Take a look_  
 _And you'll see_  
 _Into your imagination_

 _We'll begin_  
 _With a spin_  
 _Traveling in_  
 _The world of my creation_  
 _What we'll see_  
 _Will defy_  
 _Explanation_

Machi had already quieted down quite a bit and she stared up as if perplexed. He continued when he was sure he had her attention.

 _If you want to view paradise_  
 _Simply look around and view it_  
 _Anything you want to, do it_  
 _Wanta change the world?_  
 _There's nothing_  
 _To it_

Machi gazed up at him as if transfixed. Bra was sure she had no idea what he was singing about, but she seemed to enjoy it. He also moved about in tune with the cadence of the song and he used a voice that could fool anyone into thinking he was the most innocent person on the planet.

 _There is no_  
 _Life I know_  
 _To compare with_  
 _Pure imagination_  
 _Living there_  
 _You'll be free_  
 _If you truly wish to be_

He began again on the third verse and then the fourth verse clearly liking her reaction. She was far calmer than Bra had ever seen her. In fact, she was smiling and even giggling, two things that Bra had rarely seen from her. Of course, Bra thought as she watched him tickling her and Machi's squeals in response, if anyone could make her do such things it would be an entertainer, one whose job it was to make others smile.

Then he made a face as if he'd caught a whiff of something nasty. She assumed Machi must have needed a change of diaper. Usually, she'd start crying which wasn't the case this time strangely enough. It was around the time it would happen since she'd fed her not too long ago.

"She needs to be changed," Bra instructed the other.

Malachi who'd been cradling her now held her from under her arms. "You don't care, huh?" he said addressing Machi. "You're just having a good time," he said smiling at her. Machi's response was more giggling. He turned to look at Bra then. "So where do you guys do this usually?"

"Here," she said leading him to a table nearby. She spread the towel out before Malachi placed the baby on it. "Though I have a confession: I've never done this before. Someone else was always there to do it."

"That's alright, I read about this," he said attempting to take off the diaper.

"Reading and doing are two different things," Bra said.

"Usually, but it's not rocket science," he said. "You've seen it done before right? So just stop me if you think I'm doing something terribly wrong."

He was insisting and he'd already gotten started anyway. The smell was much more pungent once it was opened, but he was quick about wrapping the dirty diaper up securely. He was not an expert by any means. She could practically see the wheels turning in his head, but as she watched him go through what looked like the proper steps she supposed it wasn't too hard of a task. He used the baby wipes and lifted her by her legs to gain better access to the parts that needed to be cleaned. Machi giggled as he did so drawing a smile from Malachi.

"You like having daddy clean you, don't you," he said in a voice that Bra imagined was only reserved for Machi as he leaned forward and playfully rubbed his nose against her.

Machi was beside herself with joy as she giggled almost shrilly. Bra nudged him before he got too carried away as he still hadn't put on the new diaper. He powdered it and finished the rest in a jiffy. He also left for a few moments to both dispose of the old diaper and to wash his own hands. For the short time span he was away, Bra looked down at her happy daughter and couldn't help but smile as well.

"Are you trying to tell me something, baby girl?" Bra asked tapping a finger on her nose. "You just don't know him as well as I do. This is the honeymoon period. Then again, maybe you have a distinct advantage."

Bra knew Malachi wanted to hold her again and she did not stop him from doing it. Though it was a little odd as she watched him sway with her—it was the first time in which she shared a room with Malachi in a long while and he paid little to no attention to her. In fact, she felt a bit like an outsider. Maybe that was her selfishness rearing its ugly head. And if she was to lose to anyone attention wise, she supposed their baby girl wasn't too humiliating of a defeat.

"This room is huge for such a small baby," Malachi commented addressing her, probably sensing that Machi was now growing a bit tired as she yawned.

"All our rooms are like that—they just have more stuff to clutter up things. She'll grow into it soon enough. There'll be enough people spoiling her to death," Bra said.

"Hm, including me."

"Including you," Bra repeated after a moment's pause.

He didn't seem to register her hesitancy as he continued to sway. There was another yawn from Machi. "Maybe you should rest too. You must still be in some pain yourself, it being only two weeks later."

"Oh, you have no idea," Bra said before she could catch herself.

"Actually—"

Bra interrupted him before he said the predictable, "Even if you've read about it—Experiencing it is something different. How much of this reading did you do, by the way?"

"I've had a lot of time on my hands," Malachi reminded her, "Recovering. I read quite a bit. There's a lot of information out there when it comes to babies: personal accounts about pregnancy and giving birth, instructional articles on practical activities involved in taking care of them, different ailments or afflictions that could affect the mother, the same for babies, breastfeeding vs formula—"

"Alright, I got it, I got it." She was almost sure that he wasn't trying to make her feel guilty. She'd asked the question and he'd answered. His tone hadn't been patronizing, but still. It became clear to her that perhaps not involving him in the past few months might have been a bit…harsh.

By this time, Machi was asleep. He took this time to place her gently back into the crib. "Let me take her off your hands for the day and you can just relax for the time being."

Bra looked at him a little surprised and Malachi caught onto that expression quickly as he glanced over at her. "I'm not taking her anywhere—she'll be right here in this house the whole time."

"I wasn't worried about that. It's just…offering something like that and you just met her today…?"

"Well, if anything gets out of hand, I'm sure I can find someone around here to help me. Speaking of that, I think I'll go see what your father's doing."

Machi was now firmly asleep and she had pretty much been given a day off from mommy duties. She didn't want to admit that she was relieved. Things had gone exceptionally well with him and Machi; there was no reason to believe that it wouldn't continue to be that way. Though she felt a bit nervous about leaving Machi in his care. Her whole family was here too just around the corner. They'd given them privacy, but they would most certainly step in if anything happened.

Why then was she not satisfied as she watched him move towards the room's entrance? He seemed concerned for her, but there was something missing there. It donned on her quickly that he'd made no advances towards her, made no attempts at rekindling their relationship and that, for some reason, was troubling.

"Wait," Bra said before she realized she had nothing concrete to tell him.

"Hm?" he said looking back at her inquiringly.

She sighed then. "Nothing."

He stood there puzzled for a moment probably trying to figure out what she'd been trying to say. "I'll see you later on then. I promise I won't overstay my welcome."

Seemed he'd gotten it wrong this time, Bra thought as he disappeared around the corner. Could it be that he'd simply accepted where their relationship was now? She supposed she wanted it that way, but on the other hand perhaps not. Maybe her mind was just playing tricks on her. Things were different now and she'd made a decision. This was not like the last time they had broken up since that had been a mistake. This time had been deliberate on her part. At least, this was how she rationalized it in her head. It _had_ been a while since she'd seen Malachi in person; maybe that was it. That man was still…undeniably good-looking and he always took special care of himself and his appearance. She still appreciated that. He seemed to have recovered well from his grievous injuries and he was just as vibrant as the day she'd met him.

After taking another look into the crib, she went to her room beside this one. She didn't think she'd be able to fall asleep so easily with a man she didn't altogether trust in the house, but he was nowhere near Machi at the moment. He was near her father just like he said he would be. Her mother was nearby as well. She wondered what they could be discussing, but her exhaustion caught up to her quickly. Maybe the act of Malachi looking at her as sincerely as he could and telling her to relax was all it took, but that couldn't be right…

* * *

 **Bra had no idea what time it was when she found herself opening her eyes, but she did feel that her intended nap had turned into something much longer.** She felt well-rested as she stretched herself under the sheets. She heard a soft knock on the doorframe of her room as she sat up in bed. The room was pitch dark. It took her a moment to realize it was dark outside. Had she really slept the whole day away?

"Yes?" she said a bit hoarsely.

"I didn't want to disturb you, but it seemed you were waking up," came Malachi's voice from the doorway. He spoke quietly.

"How long was I out?" she asked trying to make out his figure.

"It's almost ten at night," he said. "I would have left sooner, but, well, you know how Bunny can get. I think we tired Machi out today and she was cleaned before being put to bed. I'm sure she'll be fine until morning."

"That's good," Bra said slowly digesting what Malachi was telling her. It did sound as if she'd missed out on quite a bit today.

"Do you mind if I turn on the light?"

"Sure," she said after a moment. Why was she suddenly more perky now that he said that? Clearly, there was something on his mind that he wanted to tell her. He was done talking about Machi. Maybe the next bit would be about her.

He turned on the light and Bra was able to see him clearly. He didn't look tired out from a day of taking care of a baby—he seemed fine, but his expression was somber. Suddenly, her premature excitement tapered out.

"I want to be as open with you as possible," he began slowly. "And while I'm here I can tell you this in person and not over a phone or through texts. I got a call from a woman a little bit ago—her name's Lilith."

Bra already didn't like the sound of this as she subconsciously crossed her arms bracing for impact. She had no interest in hearing about other women he might be messing around with at this point. He _did_ have a lot of free time.

"She's Tien's neighbor and I've gotten to know her quite well—

"Can you get to the point?" Bra asked impatiently.

"She just informed me that she's pregnant and that I'm the only guy she's been with since we first met."

"Are you serious right now?" Bra asked. "One wasn't enough? You're just slinging your dick all around town now? With no protection, apparently."

"I trusted her and maybe in hindsight, I should not have so quickly. Also, I'm starting to think birth control doesn't work nearly as well as advertised."

"This isn't a joke," Bra said with a frown. "So what does this mean? Have you just given up with us and you're just going to start a new family somewhere else?"

"No one could ever replace you—you know that," Malachi said, "And if I recall right, I wasn't the one giving up. But the fact is, we're not together."

"It _sounds_ like you're giving up and that you're moving on to someone else. Why even tell me all this if that wasn't the case?"

"Because, it would be even more awkward if I didn't. Lilith was a friend and nothing more, but I can't change what's already happened. I would never tell any women to get an abortion no matter how unplanned and I would never plan to abandon a child if I can help it. So I will support her."

"Why do you even—" she sighed and then looked away from him when her building anger got the best of her. "I'm sure she has her own family to take care of things."

"Even if she did, she lives right next door to me."

She'd forgotten that fact. That didn't make her feel any better. "I don't care," she said with a huff. " 'Even if she did'? Don't tell me she doesn't have a family as well."

"No, she does, but they've pretty much excommunicated her on account of the life she chose to live—different from what was planned for her. I won't go into details. She's pretty much on her own."

"I…see," Bra said slowly. "What will all this mean for…us?"

"That all depends on you. If you don't want me around, then say so, but I do want to be."

"But…how would you even have time for all that?"

"I'll make time."

"Won't you start training with Tien soon? I heard he could be…pretty intense."

Malachi scoffed at that. "I can handle him. There's only one person who can make me do things I don't already want to and he's not the one training me. Him and his friend Chiaotzu; simple men with simple goals. If it's for our child, I will make time as much as humanly possible."

"And what about…nevermind," she said quickly not wanting to broach the topic that had suddenly came to her mind.

"Just tell me, Bra. I hate when you leave your thoughts unfinished, then I have to wonder for far too long about what you possibly could have wanted to say."

Despite herself, she smiled liking the thought of Malachi pondering over such things. "What about 'it', that thing inside you?"

"How did I know it would come back to that?" he said with a sigh.

"Well?"

"I'm fine right now."

Bra gave him an annoyed look. "So much for being 'open' with me."

Bra gazed at him challengingly now and he soon looked away from her. "You're right. Like I said, I'm doing fine right now. I gave my word to Pan. It's not in my nature to go back on things like that."

"So you're completely done with all that craziness from before. You no longer _want_ to destroy everything."

"I try not to focus on those things."

"Why don't you just tell me no? That would have been a good answer."

"Then I would have been lying."

Bra was caught off guard by his frankness. She expected him to say something different, to reassure her, to hide and save face. His words drew some shivers from her. What was he really thinking right now? Was he always one slip up away from throwing all pleasantries aside and finishing what he started? She wanted him to explain further, maybe things weren't that precarious, but then perhaps dredging up such things wasn't exactly the brightest thing she could do.

"Bulma told me she reached out to a geneticist, someone with expertise that could actually help her. There may be some way to mechanically remove his presence from me and then I couldn't quite follow the rest of what she was saying. She seems hopeful."

"So basically, DNA splicing? That sounds like it might work, but you don't look all that excited about it."

"Messing around with genetics with an unknown, alien entity thrown into the mix—I don't like it. From what I know about that, it took many decades of research and study to manipulate human DNA with the level of expertise they do now and there are still some risks involved."

"And you're an expert on this sort of thing?"

"I'm not—it does make me a bit uneasy though. But, I trust your mother's judgement."

"If my mom ever came up with a way to rid yourself of it, would you take it?"

"Have I ever given you any reason to doubt that? I would without question."

"That's good to hear," she admitted.

"Well, it's getting late. Perhaps I'll see you soon. If you allow it, I'll call you later."

"I'd like that," she said realizing that it wouldn't be such a bad thing.

Besides, she thought to herself, maybe there was still a chance that things could be different. Hearing that her mother was still working on a way to help him let her know her feelings on the matter; she'd not given up. Either that or it would probably not be a good idea to leave a ticking time bomb to go off some time in the future. Not to mention that nice piece of news he'd told her about another woman. How could he be so stupid? It wasn't like him. Had he been lying? Had he not told her the full story? She could never really tell with him. There was always an unknown element when it came to him even more so now.

Bra waited a moment for Malachi to leave and then she left her room to check on Machi. Just as he had said, she was asleep and peaceful at that. Despite her misgivings, today had not been as terrible as she thought. Being near him again, seeing the smile that he was able to bring to Machi's face, it made her feel invigorated.

* * *

 **AN:** Some slight drama. It'll likely go downhill from here, but one can always hope for the best.

 **Critic:** Welcome to groupie love, my friend.


	28. The Hesitant Lovers

**Malachi ignored their judging comments and disappointed looks.** He didn't beat around the bush once he came back home and they were all sitting together at the dinner table. It would be easier in the future if he simply told his housemates the situation with Lilith. Tien hadn't been altogether onboard with him leaving to see Bra. Now was worse as far as distractions were concerned. Lilith was carrying and Malachi was concerned for her continued wellbeing.

All those weeks he spent scouring the web for all things pregnancy was finally coming in handy. He'd wondered how it had been like for Bra, but imagination could only go so far. He visited Lilith every day to make sure she was doing well. Her family had abandoned her as far as he knew. Without him, she would be going through this alone. She lived next door to him—it would be silly of him to allow that to happen. Though he was not in love with her, she was still pleasurable to be around. They had many things in common, he discovered, from their likes to dislikes. This wasn't the case with Bra.

She went for her first ultrasound a few days after he came back to town and Malachi drove her to the doctor's office down the street which was, in fact, a five-minute trip. The family doctor he had met there was also an obstetrician. At this point, Lilith was still not showing, but she had been asked to come in to make sure things were going smoothly since this was her first pregnancy. So far, Lilith had not felt any differently and Malachi hoped this would continue to be the case.

It was early in the morning when they arrived right when the place opened—they'd scheduled it this way so that they wouldn't have to wait so long to find out the good or bad news. Malachi gave her no signs of being worried, but in reality, he was. He hadn't been able to get a full night's rest for some time now.

"Alright," the nurse said as she stepped out from the back, "We're ready for you."

Her voice had cut sharply through the quietness of the waiting room. They'd been the only two there and as far as conversations went, they'd spoken little to each other. Malachi stood up first and then Lilith as she looked up at the other as if asking for confirmation; "should we really do this?" He gave her a brief and subtle smile and she followed him to the back where the nurse was taking them.

First of all, they performed a full physical exam on her which took the next thirty minutes to complete. They took her blood, acquired a urine sample from her, along with checking her height and weight. Then they waited for these samples to be tested. It was to check both Lilith's health and the future health of the baby. The hospital was equipped with technology that could thoroughly test one's blood to detect any abnormalities including levels of hemoglobin and immunity to infections or exposure to them. A blood sample was also taken from Malachi—something he had not been prepared for. He gave it without question, but it was then that he became a bit apprehensive. He hoped it hadn't shown on his face.

A thought came to him as he watched the nurse leave with the blood samples. They might find something that they would be better off not knowing. In fact, he was certain that they would and he realized that he did not want that to happen. Bulma having access to such things was one thing—she was trying to help him, but no one needed to know the genetic information for Laputa. The less people knew about that creature, the better.

He stood up, drawing her attention at once.

"Where are you going?" she asked before he could say a word.

He could tell she was nervous. "To use the restroom," he said reassuringly, "I'll be back."

He strolled out of the room confidently, but bypassed the bathroom. Instead, he went further into the office in the direction he had seen all the other medical personnel go and he followed the signs. It was a small office. There were probably only five or six people working at one time. He made his way to the lab with little issue. He passed a nurse, but she was too busy with her own work to notice him. Swinging doors led to the lab and he entered them without much ado. Inside were two men in white lab coats clearly engrossed in the machinery before them analyzing whatever samples they had at the moment. Malachi assumed it was his and Lilith's. Seeing as the nurse had informed them of a fifteen-minute waiting time, they most certainly would be working on their samples. He stood there for almost two minutes before one of them noticed him.

"Hey, you shouldn't be here," the man said immediately.

"I know, but I'm here anyway. I doubt there's anything you can do about it."

The other man reached for his phone, taking it up into his hand. Before he could do anything else, the phone fell from his hand and crashed to the ground in a steaming pile of burnt metal. The man looked up with a frightened expression at Malachi.

"D-Did you—?"

"I did," Malachi cut across him with a befitting grin. "And I can do the same to you if I so pleased. Fortunately for you, I'm in a good mood."

The man who had first detected him caught his drift quickly. "Whatever you want just name it—just please don't do anything rash."

"The blood sample that you're working on from the patient Malachi—destroy it and all information associated with it."

"O-okay," the man said with a nod. "Is there anything else?"

Malachi stepped a little closer to the men and they stepped back, sufficiently convincing Malachi that they were indeed afraid of what he might do. "I want you to replace my sample with one of your own—it really doesn't matter from who or where and use that in your analysis." He noticed the name badges on their jacket. "Emil Rosenbach and Ryan O'neal—you will be contacted by one of my associates by day's end and you will cooperate with them. If not, then I can't guarantee a bright future for you."

He received nervous nods from them.

"Good, we've come to an agreement. Hopefully, you won't do anything rash as well—I'll be watching you."

He turned on his heel and left the two lab techs to scramble about the lab. He made his way quickly now through the back area and back to the patient rooms. Lilith was quite anxious by the time he arrived. Malachi feigned concern as he sat beside her on the bed and held one of her hands in reassurance. He couldn't wait for this entire doctor visit to end and he was in no mood to be comforting another as he wondered if his little spur of the moment activity would backfire on him. All those men would have to do is call the authorities—the entire thing would be blown out of proportion. This being such a small town, the news would spread like wildfire. It wasn't something he wanted to think about. He resisted the urge to start tapping his foot in impatience. He needed to remain calm. He needed to resist the urge to simply go back and kill those two idiots. Killing them would have been far more full proof, but the consequences would have been steep.

His ki sense was still rudimentary and he could not keep track of two insignificant ki signatures even if they were just a few rooms away. He had no idea what they were doing at the moment, but he hoped fear would win out. The door to their room opened and Lilith visibly flinched at the doctor's presence.

"It's okay, it's okay," Malachi reassured her in soft tones.

She seemed to calm if only a little. The doctor smiled at her as well easing her further.

"The results have come in and I'm happy to say that both of you have received high marks. Immunity is up-to-date and there doesn't seem to be any presence of disease or anything of that nature."

"That's good news," Malachi said relieved to hear that the lab techs had done their jobs. Lilith gave a sigh of relief.

There was no way his own blood would have passed such extensive tests. He was certain they would have found something abnormal about it.

Lilith had many questions for the doctor from what medication she could take if she really needed to and whether it was safe to have sex while pregnant. Malachi kept his expression neutral, but he mentally laughed at the thought of ever having her again after the stunt she pulled last time. For the sake of her comfort, however, he chose to keep such comments to himself—she'd soon figure it out on her own.

After the consultation, they finally got on with the thing they'd come there for. The doctor called it a transvaginal ultrasound—one that would be more appropriate for her. A normal ultrasound would not yield them much information. Malachi stayed by her side the entire time the procedure was being done. A screen was opened on the wall in front of the foot of the bed and the prepped doctor carefully inserted a probe into her vagina. She gripped his hand a little harder at insertion, but after a moment she calmed as images began being displayed on the monitor. It was interesting, to say the least. The doctor was carefully examining her reproductive organs likely looking for abnormalities. He spoke to them as well pointing out what was being shown. Eventually, he was able to see the baby, small and alien-like. From the images he'd seen from his research, Malachi didn't think it looked normal. Instead of an awkward half-crescent shape with beady black eyes, he saw no eyes, a disproportionate head or what could be considered a head, tiny hands that resembled claws and no feet whatsoever. The doctor had been speaking candidly before, but then he became quiet.

The doctor grew a bit concerned and Malachi could tell as he wrote something down in his pad. Lilith was too distracted with the images in front of her to notice. Malachi wasn't sure if she was aware of how odd the fetus looked. Then he continued with his examination. The entire procedure took a little over half an hour to do and Malachi was glad it was over as the doctor carefully removed the transducer.

The serious expression on the doctor's face clued them in on the bad news he was about to give them after the equipment was put away.

"The good news is, your child is alive and breathing though the heart rate is much higher than what I'm comfortable with. From what I can tell, there is certainly macrocephaly—a larger than average head—which could be entirely benign or a symptom of other issues. Developmentally, the eyes should be visible, but I see no presence of them—that is quite a rare condition called anophthalmia. And there appears to be some abnormalities in the—"

Lilith was already tearing up. By the time Malachi turned to embrace her now shaking form, she was fully sobbing. The doctor respectfully stopped speaking as he saw this and she continued in this way for quite some time. He slowly rubbed her back repeating the words: "I'm here for you. We will figure this out together." He wasn't entirely sure if his actions did anything for her, but he did what he could until she finally pulled away from him probably realizing that they couldn't simply stay that way forever and that they weren't at home.

"Malachi…I'm sorry, I can't do this…Could you just," then she sighed, "I want to wait out in the car for you." She looked at the doctor then. "Is that alright? Do I still need to be here? You can just tell Malachi the rest—I don't want to hear anymore."

"That's fine," the doctor said back, "Know that we will do everything we can to make sure you are well taken care of whatever choices you make."

"Thank you," she said quickly before rushing out of the room either in frustration or disgust, Malachi couldn't tell.

The doctor sighed when she was gone. Now it was just Malachi and with Lilith gone he no longer felt the need to mince words.

"Continue," Malachi said simply.

The doctor gave him a puzzled expression and Malachi was sure it wasn't because he was confused as to what he was talking about. He likely noticed the change in his attitude. "There appears to be some abnormalities in the hands and feet."

"I noticed it as well on the imaging—it certainly didn't look right."

"I'm going to speak plainly as it seems you'll be able to handle it. I've never seen such a malformed fetus in all my years of performing ultrasounds. It's even rarer for these types of abnormalities to happen all at once. There may be other issues as well that I won't be able to determine unless more tests are done. I suspect this is all largely genetic and with your questionable family medical history we are missing quite a big piece of the puzzle."

"I would apologize, but there's hardly anything that can be done for it. I would just like to know your recommendation—should she have an abortion or not?"

The doctor crossed his arms pensively. "That is up to you two—mostly her. There's a chance that your child could make it all the way to birth without issue. That is just from what I can see. The child isn't missing any vital organs that would prevent a live birth."

"A child born with such defects would hardly have a life worth living."

"Those are calls that I cannot make, but there are plenty of examples of people living quite fulfilling lives despite their physical setbacks."

Malachi stood up then as it was clear what the doctor's opinion was. "I'll let her decide."

"With the unique conditions of her pregnancy, I will need to see her a bit more regularly—once a week to see how things progress. This is early in development and there is still a chance that some of these issues could correct itself."

"Well then, doctor, we will see you soon."

The doctor left promptly and Malachi made his way to the car that Lilith was now in awaiting his return. Her eyes were red-rimmed and she looked in worse condition, but she smiled as soon as she saw him. He embraced her again for good measure as she looked fragile sitting alone in the passenger's seat.

"I just don't understand," she said barely over a whisper. She sat back in her seat looking down at her stomach. "I'm having the child of the most perfect man I've ever met—there must be something wrong with me."

Malachi reached over and turned her head to him as she said this, surprised that she would come to such a farfetched conclusion. "There's nothing wrong with you. The doctor did an entire physical exam on you and found nothing out of the ordinary. And I am not perfect—I'm the furthest from perfect in comparison to you."

Her eyes were still moist and stray tears fell from them as he looked exclusively at her. "You always say that and I always say you're wrong, you're being too modest."

"You're being naïve," he stated firmly.

"I'm being serious. You. Are. Perfect."

"I'm _not_ ," he said in frustrated tones as he finally released her. "If your idea of perfection is entirely based on one's biased opinion of appearance, then your logic is terribly flawed."

"Not just appearance. Everything about you. The way you say things. The way you look at me sometimes. The way you fucked me that one magical night. The way you can make your voice sound so heavenly. Even the way you think. That's perfect in my book. To hell with logic."

"Well, reality seems to be in disagreement. You saw the state of that 'thing' in your womb. We're better off just cutting our losses."

"NO!" she said defiantly with surprising force. "I don't want to abort and I NEVER want to hear you say that again—do you understand?"

"I understand," he said after a pause. He was looking at her again and she'd lifted her head as well. "I'm sorry I suggested it."

The idea of abortion seemed logical until that moment Lilith looked at him as if he'd lost his mind. Maybe he had. It was near impossible for him to know from moment to moment whether he was doing something right or the opposite. The lines had become blurry long ago. It was a daily struggle that he had mostly gotten used to, but he could not really trust himself. He could hardly trust his own thoughts and often depended on cues from others to tell him if he'd gone astray. Lilith was not the most reliable indicator, but she was the one who would be carrying the child. Just as he had stated to the doctor, the decision was up to her and she had chosen. He only had to nod and agree.

With this, he started the car and drove her home, careful not to drive too fast or roughly for her sake.

"You'll keep supporting me, won't you?" she asked in a small voice.

"Of course," he said simply and then left it at that.

That child if it was ever born would likely require a lot of support and there was no way she'd be able to afford such care on her own. The ride was silent as the passing wind flowed over them. The weather, at the very least, was pleasant. He walked her to her house and stayed with her longer if only to make sure she was no longer on edge. His presence seemed to reassure her. He left only when he was sure she was asleep.

He noticed a car at Launch's house as he walked closer to Tien's place which immediately piqued his interest. He realized, at that moment, that he'd never seen her car before or even knew that she had one. For all he knew, she could have been walking to work each day. Today might be one of the few days she had off. Perhaps it was finally time to pay her a visit. If nothing else, it would be something to distract him from thinking about the bleak future of his yet unborn son or daughter.

Just as he moved towards her house, she stepped out of the front door as if she'd known he'd be coming. He waved to her and she waved back with a bright smile. That was all the invitation he needed.

"I see you finally got a day off," Malachi said as he approached her.

"Finally. It's been weeks of late night shifts and no break. I fought tooth and nail for this too. Today and tomorrow I'll be totally free. I just decided to go out for lunch for a change. Would like to come?"

"Sure. I was just about to make myself something anyway."

"By the way, has anyone ever told you, you look just like that singer?" Launch asked as they walked to her car.

"Yeah," he said with a grin that was impossible to hold back, "I get that a lot."

Launch turned the car on immediately once they were inside and backed up with more speed than Malachi was prepared for.

"How's Tien doing?" she asked once they were out on the street.

"Well," Malachi said singularly. "He's at the dojo as usual teaching classes. Chiaotzu's with him too."

"Figures," she said rolling her eyes. "That man never takes a break. He's like a machine."

"He does eat," he pointed out smoothly. "He's capable of becoming passionate about things and caring about others, if those drab discussions about his students is any proof."

"You don't have to convince _me_ about his good qualities," she said with a sigh.

"Why don't you come over for dinner? Chiaotzu always cooks something and they eat at the same time every day."

"Today? So spur of the moment?" she asked.

"Why not?"

"There's a million reasons why not. He made it clear to me years ago that he wanted nothing to do with me. And I'm totally uninvited."

"First off, I've invited you. Secondly, that was then, this is now. Things could be different. You'll never know unless you see him for yourself."

Launch was silent for a while probably contemplating his words. Malachi waited patiently for her questions.

"Does he seem different to you?" Launch asked.

"I haven't known him for very long. I wouldn't know, but call it a sixth sense, he wouldn't mind if you came over."

"What if things turn out badly?"

"Then they turn out badly. It's not going to kill you."

"That's easy for you to say," she said as she drove a little faster.

"I think you're tougher than you look and you're already looking forward to dinner."

"Maybe," she finally admitted.

"Wear something nice. He hasn't seen you in a long while. I'm sure his mental image of you is a bit foggy. I'm sure he'd be caught off guard as it is, but doing something a little extra would be icing on the cake."

"You sound so sure of yourself," Launch said with a laugh.

"Timing is everything, as they say."

Malachi hadn't visited much of the town; he hadn't been much further than the small shopping center nearby, but there were eateries further out. She took them to a diner that seemed like it had been there for a while. Launch made some suggestions as to what to order and Malachi took her on her word. Though he usually attempted to have a nutritious meal at every sitting despite failing on many occasions, this time he couldn't be bothered with caring about such things. Besides, the way that she described that hickory bacon cheeseburger made it near impossible to resist. Launch ordered herself a nice slab of steak, mashed potatoes, and roasted broccoli. It had been awhile since he partook in restaurant quality food and he enjoyed it immensely.

The two of them were talking well after they were finished with the main course as well as the dessert that they ordered later. They didn't officially leave until nearly two hours after noon. By then, Launch seemed far more comfortable with Malachi's suggestion to show up for dinner that evening. He enjoyed a pleasant afternoon with Launch. She was easy to speak to and she had a kind personality—a woman Malachi thought would be good for Tien.

They parted ways once she took them back home. Malachi went to check on Lilith. By now, he had the key to her house so he could enter and leave at his own discretion. He hadn't asked for a key, but she had insisted on giving it to him just in case of an emergency. She was still asleep and she seemed quite peaceful. It had always been that way for her, he noticed. Anytime he came to her and found her resting, it would never be fitful, her worries apparently nonexistent or not enough to lose sleep over. Even now, even after hearing the news about the child she was carrying and her tearful reaction, she slept without a care in a world. Malachi envied this.

He wasn't even sure if he wanted the child to be born in the first place. He'd seen plenty of malformed children in his time at the orphanage and even as an adult as he gave to charities and visited those who needed help including reconstructive surgery. Such people were shunned by the world. They were the butt of everyone else's jokes, the lowest of the totem pole. Unless one was born to wealthy parents, they wouldn't see the light of day. How someone like that could grow up to not hate the world was a mystery in itself. It wasn't impossible, there were always exceptions to the rule, but it wasn't the norm.

Medical science was robust enough to correct such issues if only one had the finances for it. This wouldn't be a problem for Malachi, but the thought of putting someone through such things to appease the opinions of the masses was a little frustrating. Insisting that the child should go through with the extensive procedures felt somehow wrong. In his mind, it was easy to dismiss one that wasn't born, but once he could hold his child in his arms, he'd likely fall in love instantly as had been the case with Machi. The child could have an overly large head with no eyes, clawed hands, and nothing below its torso and he might still grow attached. Drastic cosmetic surgeries would have to be done and he would not subject that child to such things until they were old enough to have a say in the matter. Until then…he didn't want to think about it.

As he thought longer about it, perhaps it wouldn't be the worst thing to happen. In the end, he would make sure the child whatever form he or she takes would be well taken care of. Surely, that is the thing that would satisfy anyone no matter what their condition.

He left Lilith to herself and returned to the house making a beeline for his room. Anytime now, Tien would finally begin training him. He felt the day coming soon as he was mostly healed from his injuries. He could walk around without much difficulties and he no longer wore bandages on almost every inch of his body. For now, he would use this free time to write in his notebook—one that already contained a few limericks and ballads. Slowly he started on another.

* * *

 **Dinner began around 7pm like clockwork.** He didn't wait to be called by Chiaotzu, he just knew to be around at that time. Tien and Chiaotzu would be back at home around 6 after the last class of the day ended and Chiaotzu would then begin cooking like a well-trained housemaid. Malachi would smell the food cooking for the next hour and then dinner would begin. Today, however, dinner was anticipated more than usual.

He decided to be on his best behavior so that Tien would be at ease and lulled into a false sense of security. Malachi usually was pleasant at the dinner table, he doubted it would alert Tien to anything. He wasn't an unobservant person, but there were certain things that Malachi knew Tien would not notice.

A knock at the door was enough to put Tien on the edge. Malachi with his usual smile volunteered to answer the door. He did so quickly so that the other wouldn't have little chance to deny him. Malachi had already stood up and was headed for the door.

He opened the door and was visibly surprised at what he saw. He'd expected Launch, the older dark haired beauty who lived next door instead he thought he was looking at someone else entirely. This only lasted for a moment, however, when he noted her facial features. Her hair was sunflower blonde and her dark eyes had been replaced with striking green eyes. Her furrowed eyebrows gave off an air of aggression having not even said a word.

"Well, you invited me, didn't you?" she asked haughtily.

"Y-Yes, I suppose I did," he said taken aback by her tone of voice. Was she upset about something or was this generally how she spoke?

"Then stop staring and let me in," she said crossing her arms in obvious annoyance.

"Of course," he said recovering a little from his initial surprise as he moved back and allowed her entrance. This did not, however, stop him from staring in wonderment. He closed the door behind him.

Malachi rightly assumed that Launch needed no introduction as she stepped into the house and went straight for the two men who resided at the dinner table—it was within eyesight of the front door.

"Launch?" Malachi heard Tien ask with moderate surprise in his tone. "Did you need something?"

"I think you know what I need," Launch said back without even skipping a beat. She sat down at the table and chose the seat directly in front of Tien.

It was as if the two of them was having a staring contest and Malachi couldn't tell if that was a good or bad thing. Either way, he sat down interrupting the ensuing silence. He was grinning to himself nonetheless and he caught Chiaotzu giving him an accusatory look.

"Well, don't be a stranger, Launch. Grab a plate, try some of Chiaotzu's cooking," Malachi said unable to keep the grin from his face.

There were more plates nearby on account of Malachi's habit of filling up more than one plate at a time. For now, they were convenient for their guest. She didn't need much convincing to dig in as she did so almost immediately at his behest.

"What brings you here?" Tien asked trying once more to understand her sudden appearance.

"I could answer that the same way I answered your last question," Launch said haughtily. She regarded Tien with the same look she gave the food on her plate.

"How's work been for you lately?" Malachi asked pleasantly as if completely unaware of the building tension in the room. He was now purposefully ignoring Chiaotzu's gaze.

"Shitty as usual. There's never enough workers and my boss is terrible at his job from hiring people to managing the employees that are already there."

"Sounds like a no-win situation," Malachi commented and then took a dainty piece of food onto his fork to eat it. This was all for show as he'd normally be inhaling the food by now, but it was easily controlled now that he had other things occupying his mind. "Only a woman like you could deal with that kind of thing on a daily basis."

"What's that's supposed to mean?" Launch said indignantly as she now looked at Malachi challengingly.

Such an intense gaze sent shivers down his back, but he found that he liked that. He found that he was quite enjoying her fiery nature. She seemed on the precipice of a complete eruption of anger. That look. Who did it remind him of? He supposed his own growing affection for Launch worked well for what he planned to do next. It wasn't exactly a detailed plan, but he still felt he could pull it off.

"Only someone as fierce and cunning as you could handle that kind of environment for long—I don't know _what_ I'd do if I were in your shoes."

"You'd leave just like all the others. And that's exactly what happens even when he does manage to get someone else. I can't believe the place is even still in business. Without me around, it would have fallen under years ago," she said in argumentative tones.

He smiled at her indignant passion, but that only seemed to irk her on.

"What are you so happy about? Did I say something funny?"

"No," he said shaking his head, entirely unfazed by her tone, "Why don't you let your boss know how you feel?"

"What good would that do? I've done it before anyway."

"You have?" he said nonchalantly, "Then there's only one thing left to do—take his job. Obviously, you could do it better."

"I could," Launch said in staunch agreement. "But…he's the one that hires people. No one in their right minds would just let someone else take their job. Besides, I've already told him point blank that _I_ could do his job better and he just shrugs it off like I'm some silly little girl."

"And you're certainly not that. Just like you, I'm sure he answers to someone as well. What if I spoke to _his_ boss and put in a good word for you?"

"You could do that?" Launch said in a tone that was finally something other than anger. "But what could you possibly do—you're just a random guy."

Malachi laughed at this. "Trust me, I have my ways. You and me—we're good friends, right?"

"Depends on whether you can do what you say you're gonna' do."

"Oh, I'll do it. I'll 'speak' to the owner and highly recommend you. By the end of the week, you'll have his job and I'm sure a nice raise."

Launch was staring at him wide-eyed. "I could kiss you right now," she said outright.

Now Malachi really was smiling. "So could I."

Malachi hadn't been paying much attention to Tien—he didn't need to. He only needed to make sure Tien was watching. At that moment right after he'd replied to Launch's figure of speech, Tien stood up almost abruptly, drawing their attention.

"Clearly, you two have much to talk about. I will excuse myself."

Malachi had something he wanted to say to the man as his full smile turned to something more mischievous, but Launch beat him to the punch.

"No. Where the hell do you think you're going? I came here to see _you_ and all you've done is ask me dumb questions and pout." She stood up as well.

Tien was speechless as he opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. Malachi took this as his cue.

"Chiaotzu and I have some errands to run," Malachi said as he stood, moved around the table and took a hold of Chiaotzu's hand in one fell swoop.

"Wha—?" Tien began obviously confused about the turn of events.

Chiaotzu was starting to protest as well, but Malachi was already dragging the little man along as he made his way towards the door. "Don't worry we won't be out too late," Malachi called out over Chiaotzu's cries of protest.

Malachi didn't bother waiting for Tien's reply and closed the door quickly. He had a firm grip on Chiaotzu's hand. It wasn't until he was quite a ways from the house that he released him; Chiaotzu could hardly pry himself away.

"What are you doing!" Chiaotzu yelled out in his loud squeaky voice. "You can't just leave him in there with that crazy lady!"

"I can and I will," Malachi said as he turned to him. He spoke steadily. "There's nothing more I can do at this point. And you will not return until I say so."

Chiaotzu grew indignant at the direct order and placed his arms akimbo. "I'll go back when I feel like it—there's literally nothing to do out here. This is when Tien and I spar."

"If you want to try me, be my guest, but you won't like what I do. Tien isn't here to say or do anything to save you—not that he could in the first place. I'd rather not go to that extent. Why don't you do both of us a favor and just do as I say."

Chiaotzu stood stubbornly in the same position and glared at him as menacingly as possible. "I don't know why anyone even bothers with you! All you do is boss me around and steal everyone's attention. From what I heard about you…maybe you should be locked up somewhere so you can't hurt anyone else."

Malachi grimaced at the other's words. They were the same ones, at least the last part, that had gone through his mind many times before. Now a little pint-sized man was repeating them as if he could read his mind. He turned from the stubborn man when he knew the other was actively refusing to be intimidated by him.

"Fine—do what you want," he said with a sigh.

His thoughts were darkening as his mind began to spiral down into places he did not want it to go. He shouldn't allow anyone to speak to him in that tone. Look at that waste of space—Chiaotzu never liked him the whole time he'd been in the house. How long must he suffer his impudence? It wouldn't be very hard to do him in right then and there. Who would miss him besides Tien?

Who would miss Tien?

Who would miss anyone if they were all wiped out at once?

Then he was interrupted by the rumbling coming from his cellphone. Curious, he took it out of his pocket so he could read the Caller ID. _Bra_ , it read. He stared at that name for a long time feeling the small device tremble in his hand. He couldn't answer it, not now.

"I will," Chiaotzu said back defiantly.

A ball of anger and frustration welled up in his chest threatening to become fully realized. His eyes made their way to Chiaotzu again wincing at the sound of his tiny voice. The little pale man was weak and vulnerable. How difficult would it truly be to permanently silence him? Then his phone began vibrating again. It was Bra. Closing his eyes and letting out a deep sigh, he placed it back into his pocket.

"If you're going back, then just do it already. You don't need my permission," Malachi said.

Then with this, he walked away from him walking in an arbitrary direction no longer caring what his destination would be. He needed…well, he didn't know what he needed, but he knew it wouldn't be found here talking to Chiaotzu.

Chiaotzu didn't follow him. When he glanced behind himself, he was nowhere to be found. He must have returned to the house. Not that it mattered at this point. Malachi was sure even a few moments alone for those two was all it took. Launch spoke plainly and despite Tien's outward attitude, having only Chiaotzu for companionship was likely already taking its toll. Tien was someone who quickly grew accustomed to a certain routine. Without some catalyst, he would likely be content to continue in that same way. Though it was impossible to predict what might happen as a result of his meddling, he hoped it turned out for the best. For now, his phone was vibrating again. This time, he answered Bra's call. He was more surprised that she'd bothered calling him so many times in a row. Maybe it was something important.

"Hello?" Malachi answered automatically with his very standard greeting, but he had nothing clever to say. He wasn't around her often enough to know what would be acceptable at this point.

"Finally," Bra said exasperatedly.

"Is there something wrong?" Malachi asked.

"I was going to ask you the same question."

"What do you mean?" he asked mystified.

"I had to call you _three_ times. What could you possibly be doing this late in the evening?"

"Who knows? Maybe I decided to turn in early today."

"Well, you don't sound like you just woke up."

"Maybe I left my phone somewhere I couldn't hear it."

"Your phone is practically attached to you," Bra said unconvinced. "Are you feeling alright?"

Malachi wasn't expecting that kind of question. She hadn't been interested in such things for a long time. In fact, it sounded odd coming from her. For almost an entire minute, he was utterly silent, unable to give an adequate answer.

"Malachi, you know I can't see your face, right? You're going to have to actually say something."

"You sound well," Malachi finally said, "You've obviously had a good day."

"I did," Bra admitted. "Machi has been an absolute angel since you visited. Music really seems to make her calmer and more manageable. I mean, of course, I guess I should have thought of that. Children like stuff like that in general—they don't have to be the daughter of a famous musician," she finished with a short chuckle.

"Well, I'm glad I could help you out just a little."

"You can visit anytime you want, you know," she said in quieter tones. "Just give me a heads up."

"I'll have to take you up on your offer."

"Good," Bra said. Malachi could hear the smile in her voice. "I was missing you—if you wanted to know. That's why I called you."

"I've missed you too," Malachi admitted.

"You better have. Not many people get to hear me say that."

Malachi couldn't help but smile at this, picturing her face as she uttered the sentence. "I can only imagine."

"How is that other woman doing?"

The question came out of nowhere and his eyebrows crinkled in response. Then he laughed. "You and I both know you don't give a damn about how that 'other woman' is doing."

"No, I don't, but you do. _That's_ what I care about it."

"I see," Malachi said after a pause.

"Just tell me already while I'm still in the mood for it. How are things going with the pregnancy?"

It took Malachi some time to reconcile with the fact that Bra wanted to know such details, but soon he answered her. "She's not doing well," he began slowly. Then he told her everything from the moment he first got home after visiting Bra to what he had learned just this morning.

"That's terrible," Bra said after he finished. "You may not believe me, but I do hope things turn out well for her baby—I was in her shoes before. The kind of stress she must be under with what happened today…"

It wasn't often that Malachi saw this side of Bra, but she was capable of being empathetic to others if she could relate. Being so close to the time that she had to go through something similar, he supposed it wasn't so much of a stretch to hear her concern.

"I think she'll be fine," Malachi said, "She's very determined to have that child no matter what."

Malachi didn't tell Bra that he'd briefly considered abortion and that Lilith had been disgusted with the very idea. He didn't know how Bra would take it and he had no intentions of risking her cutting all ties with him. He was lucky she was even calling now.

"And have you started training with Tien yet?"

"Not yet, but I'm sure it will be soon."

"I probably won't hear from you then once that starts," Bra said in teasing tones. "I remember how you were when it was my father."

"That was different—I was a novice then."

"And you're not now?" she asked.

"Good point," he said after a moment when he thought about it. "But surely this won't be as intense."

"Hm, we'll see," Bra said. "And don't think I didn't notice you dodge my question earlier. I still want to know how you're doing."

Malachi smiled to himself. "I'm glad you called—it was perfect timing."

"So, not well then."

"No," he said singularly, but he did not expound drawing an exasperated sigh from Bra.

"Seriously, you're going to do this again? What happened to trying to be more open with me?"

"Maybe I'm not ready for the whole 'full disclosure' thing and I'm sure you have a lot on your plate already taking care of Machi—I will be there for her as much as I can."

"I swear, asking you how you're doing is like pulling teeth. I'm fine, Machi's perfectly well and happy, the whole family is excited because of her, but what about you? Sometimes it's easy to forget that you're still possessed by that alien and who knows how it's affecting you these days. You never tell anyone. And sometimes…I feel guilty about leaving you when—"

"No," he interrupted her, "Don't ever feel guilty about that. It was the right decision. It still is. It would have been unnecessarily risky otherwise."

"I didn't know the extent of how bad it had gotten until I saw it for myself and it scared the hell out of me. I wasn't ready then, but now I think I am. If you need someone to talk to just call me. I won't judge you, I only want to help. You've been going through this all by yourself—honestly, I don't know how you do it, but I know it must also be terrifying for you as well."

"Bra…I know you have good intentions, but you'd soon regret wanting to know so much about these things. No one should be privy to the kinds of thoughts I have on a daily basis. It shouldn't be discussed. This foreign entity who comes from a very distant galaxy has its own twisted way of thinking that is difficult to explain at best and it has become commonplace for me. I don't want to be around you for long simply for that reason. I'm glad that we can speak to each other over a phone where you're at a safe distance, but anything further would be…it wouldn't be a good idea."

"I guess you would understand better than anyone," Bra said finally relenting.

"You're helping me right now just talking to me. The truth is, this is the most like myself I've felt in a long while."

"Then maybe we should talk all night. Machi is asleep now."

"I would love nothing more, but I'm feeling quite tired—I wouldn't be very good company." He felt himself winding down and the emotional drama of the day finally taking its toll. Honestly, he didn't feel like having an even longer discussion about it. He'd made it through another day. Tomorrow would likely be just as draining. He had to continuously be vigilant in monitoring his own actions, be adequate emotional support to Lilith who had no one else to comfort her, and figure out what more needed to be done with Tien and Launch if anything.

"I can kind of hear it in your voice. Well, I won't keep you."

"You'll be free tomorrow night, won't you?" he asked.

"I should be around this time. Funny how I used to stay up so late—now, everything around here quiets down when 8 rolls around."

"Children will do that to you," he said with a soft laugh, "At least, that's what I heard."

They were quiet for a moment neither having anything pertinent to say.

"Good night, Malachi," Bra said wistfully.

"You as well," he replied.

From there they ended the call and Malachi was left to himself in almost pitch darkness were it not for a few porch lights on nearby. He was only slightly inconvenienced as he made the trek back to Tien's place. He expected to simply walk up the steps and make a beeline for his bedroom, but his progress was hindered by the two who sat on the porch steps—Tien and Launch. They were just talking and they hadn't noticed him yet. The scene brought a smile to his face; it was certainly a nice image to end the day on. The two were so engaged in their own conversation that they didn't notice Malachi until he was a mere feet away and he cleared his throat.

"Back from your important errands?" Tien asked.

Malachi couldn't tell if he was being facetious or literal. "Yeah, Chiaotzu ditched me pretty early though," he answered carrying on with the charade.

"Chiaotzu is still trying to get used to you being around—give him some time and he'll come around." Tien stood up then to allow the other to pass. "I meant to tell you this at dinner, but I believe that you're ready for training. Do you feel you're up for it?"

"I'm more than ready," Malachi said without skipping a beat. He knew it was coming. The question was always when.

"Good, then you will come with me and Chiaotzu to the dojo an hour before noon."

"Not a problem," Malachi answered. He was just surprised he didn't need to wake at the crack of dawn. Maybe that came later. Malachi walked up the three steps to the porch before pausing. "Well, don't stay up too late kids," he said and then continued on his way.

"It's called a joke," Malachi heard Launch say exasperatedly to Tien much to his amusement.

He entered his room thereafter welcoming the sight of the ever-fierce phoenix above his bed. Something had gone right today and Malachi focused on this modicum of light in the almost overwhelming darkness before drifting off to sleep.

* * *

 **AN** : Different POV coming up in the next chapter!

 **Critic:** Ah, man! I spoiled it? Well then, I guess there's no need for me to keep writing, right? In fact, why don't I just stop the story right here since you already know what's going to happen?

 **maximusrexmundi** **:** Yeah, I'll give you that—it is a bit soap-y. But I'm glad you noticed the timing issue—it's a bit of a foreshadow for this chapter.

 **WildHeart44** **:** Woh! Vicious, girl! That last part anyway. I'm glad you like the name. It took me forever to come up with a good one. I suck at coming up with them. Speaking of Vegeta, we haven't dropped in on him in a while…Hmm…I'll have to remedy that soon.


	29. Tienshin-Style

**"So you're still working at that pharmacy after all these years," Tien asked Launch.**

Malachi had left with Chiaotzu in a hurry. Though his departure had been strangely abrupt, he was grateful that the other had done so. He'd been getting uncomfortable with how he was speaking to Launch—he didn't like that feeling, but jealously was a particularly difficult one to curb. He'd wanted to excuse himself, but Malachi had beat him to the punch. He was alone with Launch and it was then he realized how rarely that happened. Chiaotzu was almost always there by his side. Without him, he felt naked and exposed—it was a nice change of pace especially in this moment.

He was far from his comfort zone, but it gave him the kind of rush he'd been missing since the long years of peace began and he spent most of his time training others rather than himself.

"You got a problem with that?" Launch asked in her haughty voice.

"I'm just a little surprised is all," Tien said, "The way you used to go on and on about robbing banks—I thought it was a short-term commitment."

"I did that stuff because it gave me a thrill. But I got so good at it that it started feeling more _routine_ than anything else. Sometimes, I'd get caught and have to spend time in jail—they were not my finest moments. I travelled all over the world always looking for something bigger and better. But it was just an illusion. I started frequenting bars…thinking about things I probably shouldn't. Then I found you again, living in this town. All I knew was that I wanted to be somewhere nearby. I couldn't do that if I got in trouble here so I found the first job I could. Then the rest is history."

"Quite the turn around," Tien commented. "Even for someone like you."

"Like me?" she said with a grin. "How about, I'm just tired of running all the time. I never thought I'd be saying something like that."

"People change," he said with understanding.

"Except for you apparently," Launch replied.

He sighed and then leaned a little on the side of the dining room table. "That's not true," he began slowly. "I've always been looking for something more ever since I realized I wasn't really needed to help protect Earth. I was completely out of my league, almost died while fighting Cell who wasn't even at full power. That didn't stop me from wanting to continue training, but there were never any real goals after that. To be honest, that was the entire reason why I opened up that dojo to begin with. Passing on my knowledge to others seemed like a fulfilling avenue."

"And has it been?" Launch asked.

"For the most part. Every year more students come and I am glad to teach them. I know that I have my limits and they will as well. It's just difficult to teach that one should not be satisfied with those limits—that one should excel even past one's teacher. Not that there isn't a drive there, but most are still coming to grips with the very presence of ki. Even my most veteran student can hardly form a proper ki blast. Somedays, it all just feels like an impossible task. I wonder if I'm just wasting my time."

"So what," Launch said, startling the other and making him look her way. "What does it matter if you're wasting time or not—do you enjoy doing it?"

Instead of answering immediately, he thought about it. He certainly wasn't upset about his work, but he also couldn't say that he was excited every time he opened up for the day. "I like the idea of teaching and passing on what I know, but the act of it...can get to be a little boring. Repetition is key to mastering techniques and at the same time sleep inducing to watch all the time. But the positives outweigh the negatives in this case. At least that's what I tell myself. And yet, it always feels like I'm missing something important. Despite surrounding myself with things that I love to do, I still feel that way."

"I know what you're missing," Launch said with a grin.

Tien looked at her mystified waiting for her to expound. She turned her attention to the dining room table filled with food and dishes.

"Let's clean this up already—I'm tired of looking at it," Launch said seemingly distracted.

Tien was in agreement despite being left hanging. Clearly, they were done with dinner and there was only them to clean it up in a timely manner before everything went bad. Chiaotzu had made a lot as usual, but Malachi had not gotten to most of it. Soon they found themselves quickly putting things away. It was an activity Tien had never thought he'd be doing with Launch especially not while she was blonde. For the next thirty minutes, their dialogue consisted of her asking where they usually put things and him giving her quick answers. She helped him wash the dishes as well, making the whole process take almost no time at all.

Chiaotzu came back around this time, but not many words were spoken between him before he simply headed off to bed albeit a little despondently. He'd asked about sparring that night and Tien declined entirely and suggested they do it the next day.

When he and Launch were done cleaning up, they took their conversation outside. It was fully dark now so Tien put on the porch light as well. They spoke further of their lives and what they'd been up to for the past few decades. Tien didn't have too much to say, but Launch had much more. She lived an adventurous life. The more he listened, the more he grew a bit envious of it despite it being filled with misfortune. It sounded exciting. That she would decide, in the end, to stay in this unremarkable town made even less sense than before. Even if they had known each other briefly in the past, surely his presence alone wouldn't be enough of a draw. Yet there they were chatting as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Of course, it had always been that way when it came to her. There were things that he shared with her that he'd spoken to no one about. As close as he was with Chiaotzu, there were certain topics that he never broached with him.

He never would have admitted that he was dissatisfied with his life to Chiaotzu knowing that such information would make him overly worried about him. He knew Chiaotzu would have no solutions anyway so he kept it to himself. And Malachi, he was too much of an unknown and he didn't think they had the sort of relationship that would make sense for that kind of discussion. But Malachi would have an opinion and maybe even a solution. He'd likely not sugarcoat anything. All these things were true about Launch as well. She looked at him knowingly and asked him questions that he had not thought to ask himself. When had she gotten so clever? Or had she always been that way and he hadn't noticed?

Malachi arrived as well and they said a few words before parting. Unlike Chiaotzu, however, he seemed in good spirits which was a relief. Tien could deal with an upset Chiaotzu, but Malachi was a different story. After he showed up, Tien spoke to Launch about him and what he hoped to achieve.

"He has so much potential," Tien said, "More than any of the students I've taught. His very existence inspires me. If there is one, there must be others in the world just like him, untapped. For a long time, Earth has pretty much depended on the strength of the Saiyans to save it time and again. I am grateful for that, but it is only a temporary fix to a much larger problem. We need to become more powerful. Just as they have learned from us, we should learn from them."

"I can see it in your eyes, you're really looking forward to doing this."

"I am, but I'm trying not to put all my eggs in one basket—"

"Then don't," she said cutting across him. They were sitting side by side on the steps so it wasn't too difficult to do what she did next. "How about trying to succeed in something else for a change?"

She leaned forward and bridged almost all the distance between them. At the last moment, unthinkingly he leaned forth to receive her lips. But it was all wrong, he sensed it as soon as it began. He pulled back from her quickly, embarrassed with the entire affair. Launch laughed at his reaction as she pulled back as well. He imagined her storming off for some reason, but she seemed somehow entertained.

"You're out of practice," she said with a real smile gracing her lips.

"I guess I am," he said after a moment. He realized that he wanted a do-over, but that was not to be as she stood up at this moment.

"Well, maybe you need to stop hanging out with little boys all the time," she said with another laugh. "It's getting late anyhow. I'm off tomorrow as well—we should hang out," she finished as she moved down the couple of porch steps.

"I would like that," Tien said truthfully though not knowing how he could possibly fit her into his usual schedule. He found he didn't care. If Launch wanted to hang out and he agreed to it, she would find a way one way or another. "Good night," he said to her before she was too far away.

"Sleep well, handsome," she said with a grin before continuing to her house next door.

She left him with a warm feeling that Tien found that he liked. He watched her until he was sure she entered her place without incidence. Then finally, he went inside for the night as well. He almost stumbled over Chiaotzu as he was making his way down the hall.

"Tien?" Chiaotzu said in his small voice before he actually could run into him.

"Yeah? What are you doing up so late?" he asked, finding a late-night encounter with his friend to be odd. Chiaotzu would have already been asleep at this time.

"I couldn't sleep. Will we spar tomorrow?" he asked.

"Of course, we always do," Tien said. Then he thought about it for a moment before he amended his statement. "In the morning at least. Launch will probably be over in the evening."

"Oh…okay," Chiaotzu said in a disappointed tone.

Tien noticed his tone immediately. "What's wrong? Did something happen?"

"No, nothing. It's nothing," he said with a sigh.

He left it at that as he passed by Tien and went to his own room. All the while, Tien looked on curiously. They would need to talk later, it seemed. He suspected he knew what was bothering his friend, but he hoped he was wrong.

* * *

 **Tien presented Malachi with the pine green gi that his students wore and the pale-yellow sash that went with it.** Malachi was clearly amused with the new outfit, but gave no protests to donning it that day. Most of the students he taught had a bulky, muscular build, but Malachi was tiny in comparison. He would appear unassuming with normal clothes on, but the gi which exposed his arms allowed him to see a bit more.

He allowed Malachi to wake at the same time he usually did which gave him enough time to clean up and eat breakfast. He and Chiaotzu sparred just as he had said. It was a quiet affair and Tien did not feel like discussing the elephant in the room.

After breakfast, they departed. Per usual, they flew off towards the dojo. Using this mode of transportation, it would take a mere fifteen minutes to arrive. It was odd to have an extra person coming with them, but Malachi was pleasant company that morning. He seemed still in a good mood. He asked many questions as to what was going to happen that day and Tien gladly filled him in. Instead of one class, Malachi would participate in two beginner classes back to back which would teach him proper form and basic technique. Tien expected it would take Malachi a few months to move on to the intermediate classes taking into account his ability to catch onto things quickly. He would spend a bit longer in the intermediate classes and then be in the advanced classes for the duration until he reached a point that he had decent mastery of the Tienshin-Style. From there, he would continue to perfect his technique. For most, such a journey took two to three years, but it depended on how much time one was willing to put into training. Only time would tell how it would be for Malachi.

"I'm surprised you haven't told me to shave off my hair," Malachi said when they got closer to their destination.

Tien laughed at this. "I don't require it, but most of my students tend to do so out of respect. Some do it just so they don't stand out from the others. Females generally don't do it, but they don't stay for long."

"I see," Malachi said thoughtfully, "Well, you know I don't mind standing out," he said with the beginnings of a grin.

"That doesn't surprise me, but might I suggest you keep a low profile. Not all my students live in this town. Some travel a long distance to get here and there's no telling who might recognize you."

"I understand," he replied, "Hopefully, nothing like that happens. I've been lucky so far."

Tien taught five hour long classes at the dojo. The first two starting at eleven was beginner's level, then an hour-long break followed. Generally, Tien would use this time to meet individually with students if they needed special attention. After that, he taught two more hour long classes that was for intermediate level followed by an hour-long break used for the same purpose as the last. Then he ended the day with his small advanced class which would span an hour before heading home around six in the evening.

Today Tien was quite motivated to teach and he knew it was because of Malachi despite his innocuous comment on how green wasn't really his color. Chiaotzu merely rolled his eyes at such a comment, but stubbornly remained quiet. In fact, he hadn't said much that day besides "good morning". Tien separated from Malachi so that his association with him wouldn't be so apparent. If there was one thing he was hoping for, it was that Malachi developed a good rapport with the other students. Malachi seemed to be the kind of person who enjoyed company—perhaps he could find ones other than women.

Chiaotzu was a bit more talkative with Malachi out the picture as they continued to the back get things ready. Class began promptly after the students filed into the large outside court. His students obediently took their places. His eyes quickly spotted Malachi who had managed to find a place in the front. Generally, newcomers would be in the back. Tien hoped he wasn't already pissing off people, but monitoring his social life was not his job. Instead, he began the lesson with warm-ups. He always started slow and then quickly ramped up the intensity level until the very end so that everyone would feel like they got a good workout. At the beginning level, one was focused on retaining memory of the various techniques in the style. Repetition was key. Today, they would focus on the self-defense form.

He kept his eyes open for all the students that day to make sure they were performing adequately, but he found his eyes often straying to Malachi. He didn't seem to have much problem at all. After a few goes, he was able to perform the move sufficiently. He taught five different techniques of self-defense that day. There were more, but he chose to focus on that for today and then for the next before moving on to more techniques. In fact, he planned to focus on self-defense for the next few weeks before testing everyone's retention. Midway through the lesson, he would group up the students so that they could practice their techniques on others. At this point, he and Chiaotzu would demonstrate how it's supposed to look like being performed on someone else and the students would take it from there. Trial and error was a good way to learn so as they attempted to dish out these techniques, Tien went around to tweak their forms and give advice on how to do it better. He tried not to hover over Malachi, but he found it difficult. Malachi was easily taking people down and occasionally being too rough. Sometimes he'd even stray away from what was taught that day. Clearly, Malachi had developed some inexperienced techniques of his own and it was probably a bit trying to ignore his own instincts and rely on new ones.

There were a few things that Tien knew he would teach Malachi once break began—how to properly fall from being thrown down. His partner was going easy on him much to Tien's surprise. It was probably obvious that Malachi was new, but he didn't expect them to be so accommodating especially after snagging a spot in the front. Tien found Malachi's partner informing Malachi of many tidbits of useful information. He taught that they should be kind to others so he supposed he shouldn't be too surprised, but Dominick, Malachi's partner at the moment, wasn't exactly known for exemplifying that characteristic.

For the last leg of the class, he continued teaching them technique and had them repeat the motions. He returned to the ones taught earlier and the new ones he'd just showed them. From experience, he knew such activities to be tiring. Malachi, however, didn't seem too winded by the time the first class came to a close.

Usually, everyone would leave promptly, but a few stayed behind to speak with Malachi including Dominick and a few of his friends. Tien hoped this was a good thing. They left as soon as the other students for the next class began coming in. Malachi stayed for this one too as he taught essentially the same lesson. This one moved a bit slower than the first one, however, so they did not get to do as many techniques, but they were equally as exhausted as the first class.

The same phenomenon happened in this class: Malachi found a spot in the front and he seemed to have made some friends by the end of it. The only difference was that Malachi was quite ready to take a break after the class was over—Tien had judged his stamina correctly. He disappeared with the other students after the class and Tien found him later in the practice hall along with many others. On his own he was going over what was taught today and he seemed to have retained quite a bit—4 out of 5 of the techniques.

Tien pulled Malachi to the side and began instructing him on other useful things. Malachi seemed all too eager to learn. Tien was encouraged by this and took his time explaining and demonstrating. Midway through the mini-lesson, however, Malachi's cellphone rang and he answered it without question before excusing himself abruptly. Tien couldn't be sure how important the call was, but barring that information, it vaguely irritated him. He waited for a few minutes only to realize that the call would likely take some time. He was forced to move onto others—and Malachi effectively missed out on valuable training time.

He didn't see Malachi again for the duration of the break much to his disappointment. He'd only requested that he do the beginner classes so he didn't expect to see him until he got home that day. However, that was not to be true as he walked into the next class to find Malachi there, but painfully noticeable without his green gi. He wore his usual dark garb and appeared to be mingling with the students. Tien didn't know what to make of it. As soon as Malachi noticed him there, he made his way over to him much to his relief.

"Would it be alright if I watched?" Malachi asked.

"I don't think that would be a good idea," Tien began slowly. It was an odd request that had caught him off guard. "It may hinder your own training by seeing too much at one time."

"It won't," Malachi said simply. "But if you're so worried, you're free to test me to your heart's content afterwards. Then you can judge for yourself."

Tien stayed silent for a moment watching the other. If this was something he really wanted to do, which it did seem that way, then it would be probably be less friction in the future if he simply allowed him to do it. "You can watch," Tien said finally, "But don't disrupt the class."

"Of course," he replied with a grin.

Tien stood apart from everyone on a dais and Chiaotzu stood up there with him. Malachi sat off to the side on the dais where one would not likely look if they were paying attention to his instruction. Tien began this class as he did the others with a warm-up and then went right into teaching technique. This class was focused on forms of throwing and there was quite a bit of people being thrown to the ground, but in a controlled manner. They were partnered off quickly as such techniques were better taught this way. He drilled them continuously for an hour and then repeated the entire affair in the next class with entirely different students. These classes weren't as big as the beginner ones since it sometimes took some work to get to this level.

The advanced class was much smaller and Tien drilled them the hardest on all forms of the Tienshin-Style. Then he would have them spar for the next half of the class. Sparing was the only real way to gain practical proficiency in the style and some were better than others. Later on in the year, he would begin teaching them ki use. As he'd told Launch before, only one of his students was able to do it to a decent degree, but he would like for that number to increase eventually. When that was the case, he would likely start a new class focusing on this. One advanced class, and another one that went beyond that point.

Malachi asked to sit in on the advanced classes as well and Tien allowed this. As soon as the last class of the day ended, he drilled Malachi on what he'd learned from his class and was quite impressed with the results.

"Do you not like the left-handed version of the lapel hold?" Tien asked when they were finished.

"Why do you ask?" Malachi answered with a question of his own.

"I didn't see you practicing it before," Tien explained.

"It's redundant," he said unabashedly, "And I'm right-handed so it's awkward as hell."

"Bit of a handicap, don't you think? Disregarding it altogether," Tien said unperturbed.

"Maybe, but I don't expect to be facing many left-handed people."

"So you would willingly make that a disadvantage?"

"A slight setback. I would compensate by positioning myself differently."

"What if you couldn't always position yourself differently?"

"Then it's no longer a problem of left-handedness, but of speed."

"You're missing the point," Tien said, "You're decreasing your effectiveness."

Malachi shook his head. "If I can't rely on my instincts, then there's no point anyway."

"Perhaps you rely too much on it," Tien said, "I'm teaching you technique so that you can go beyond that. If you practice long enough than it will become natural."

Tien waited for another comeback from Malachi, but this time he did not have one. Malachi watched him silently for a moment and then replied, "I see."

Tien couldn't be sure if this meant that he would take his advice or that he simply understood what he was trying to say. Either way, they'd reached the end of the day and it was time for them to head home. Chiaotzu came along with them though with not much to add to their conversation. It wouldn't take them long to get back home as the trio took to the air.

Not three minutes into their trip, however, Malachi stopped abruptly to take a call. Tien had heard his phone vibrating and hoped he would ignore it, but that wasn't the case. Instead of continuing on without him, he opted to stop and then Chiaotzu stopped as well.

"We're almost there," Chiaotzu said, "And we're gonna' be late for making dinner."

"I'm sure this won't take long," Tien said, but he really had no idea.

Besides dinner, he was looking forward to seeing Launch once again. It had felt like a particularly long day despite sticking to the same routine he'd had for ages now. Seemed spending time with Malachi for a long span of time was mentally taxing. He was monitoring him closely, making sure he was actually getting something from the lessons and if that conversation at the dojo about technique was any indication, he would probably have many more like it in the future.

The call didn't take long at all and things didn't sound good.

"She's where?" Malachi asked for the second time. He paused before saying something else. "But why so far away?" Another pause. "How is she doing?" A short pause. "Alright, I'm on my way." Malachi ended the call and quickly slid it back into his pocket before looking towards them again. "Sorry, I'll have to take a rain check on dinner tonight."

"What's wrong?" Tien asked before he could take off in a different direction.

Malachi had already turned from him. "It's Lilith. She went to the doctor for her weekly checkup. There were complications and they took her to a bigger hospital."

No sooner had he rattled out this information, he took off at a speed that was anything but leisurely. He couldn't ask any questions or tell the other that he too was concerned. Instead, all he could do was watch him go. He pondered if he should follow, but he was sure Malachi did not want his company at the moment. Otherwise, he would have invited him.

"I hope it's nothing serious," Tien said finally. Only Chiaotzu could hear. His little friend only looked down despondently as a response.

Eventually, they took off to their house in a more somber mood. Chiaotzu began on dinner just as Launch joined them that evening. They sat down on the couch in the living room with a fireplace as the centerpiece and talked for over an hour about their day.

Malachi never came back that night and Tien fell asleep wondering if he'd see him the next day.

* * *

 **AN** : TienXLaunch fans, this chapter was for you. Hope you enjoyed. Also, this marks the first day of Malachi's training at the dojo.

 **WineIXI** I'm glad you like Malachi as much as I like writing about him! It's definitely been pretty easy for me. Initially, I didn't think it would be, but DBZ already has a nice variety of quirky characters to work off of so it's been fun.

 **WildHeart44:** That is still pretty dark, though, but don't worry, I already have an inkling of what's going to happen next. And, yeah, he _is_ still possessed, isn't he? (picture me with a devious smile).


	30. Too Close for Comfort

**Tien had no idea if Malachi would be joining them for another day of training.** He checked his room only to find it empty. He also went out on a limb and knocked on Lilith's door, but found that no one was there to open. She was likely still at the hospital and Malachi would be there as well.

After finishing up with their usual morning routine, they left for the dojo. They were met with a pleasant surprise as they touched down in front of the entrance. Malachi was there fully garbed and leaning against the giant double doors, legs crossed, and looking down at his glowing cellphone screen as if he'd been there for a while waiting for them.

"Didn't expect to see you," Tien said causing the other to look up from his phone. "How is Lilith doing?"

He wore a neutral expression so Tien could not decide if the other was upset or not. "The worst is over for now, they say. They're keeping her for longer to monitor her condition. Apparently, she wasn't getting enough nutrition." He'd slipped his phone into his pocket.

"I'm glad she's getting better," Tien said sincerely.

Malachi looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "Right," he replied in a tone that suggested he wasn't at all convinced that he was concerned for her wellbeing. "I'm here now so let's get this over with quickly. I can't stay the whole day this time."

"I understand," Tien said moving forward now to finally unlock the door. Whether Malachi believed it or not he did care about Lilith's wellbeing as well as his state of mind. He realized that if he was ever going to have any sway over Malachi's thoughts or mood, he would need a closer relationship with him and that task seemed a bit impossible.

"How was your evening yesterday?" Malachi asked as they strolled in.

"A bit quiet without you. Launch came over again—I think it'll probably be a regular thing."

Malachi smiled at this. "It should be."

"Maybe you could cook dinner one of these days—wasn't that something you like to do?" Tien asked. He was fishing a little, but he could read between the lines especially if that person continually had an opinion on Chiaotzu's "overcooked" meals and had offered to cook at one time.

"That is an understatement. But yes, I will do that one of these days."

"If you want, you could bring Lilith over as well—to make sure she's getting enough to eat."

"That's awfully considerate of you."

"It's nothing," Tien reassured the other, hoping he wasn't somehow stepping too far over boundaries.

"She'd love that," he said after a moment. "She's forever calling me throughout the day, maybe that might settle her a bit more if she knew she'd see me at some point each day."

"Do you mind that—her calling all the time?" Tien asked.

"I hate it. Hardly an independent bone in her body. I care more about that thing growing inside her than her to be honest."

"That thing growing inside her?" Tien parroted back not liking the language he used to describe the baby. "A child, right?"

Malachi grinned at him as if he was being naïve. He took out his phone again and began moving through different screens quickly. "I haven't shown anyone the images of the ultrasounds she's taken thus far—the sight of them brings Lilith to tears and she sort of denies that they exist."

Tien found himself looking at grotesque, misshapen fetus images. As Malachi flicked through the five images, he wondered if he was looking at the same one each time as the fetus looked drastically different in each image. It was beginning to send shivers down his spine. Something was terribly wrong.

"What have the doctors said?" Tien asked wide-eyed.

Malachi tapped his phone and the screen grew dark before slipping it back into his pocket. "They're stumped. They've given me two different explanations all filled with hard to pronounce human fetus deformities. They eventually want to take its DNA to see if they can do anything. I doubt it."

"Do you think it has something do with…" Tien didn't know how to refer to the creature or if he should even say it out loud just in case it might somehow trigger something.

"It has everything to do with that," Malachi said thankfully catching on to his train of thought.

"Have you told Bulma about this?" Tien had no idea what should be done about this if anything, but he did believe that such decisions should be up to the woman having the child in the first place. He wondered how much Lilith knew.

"No," Malachi replied. "She couldn't do any more than the doctors are doing now and it would be far outside her field of study. What would I be asking her to do? Fix it somehow? What if there is nothing to fix? Lilith wants to keep that child and I doubt there's anything _I_ can say or do to convince her otherwise. And really…I don't think there's anything we can do besides letting things play out."

Tien couldn't figure out anything comforting to say to Malachi, but this was the most he'd ever gotten out of him and it seemed to come out of nowhere.

"Normally, I would have kept such information to myself," Malachi said as if reading his thoughts. "But I think I'll be here awhile learning your fighting style and it would become obvious to you anyway—I'd rather you had all the facts."

"Thank you for trusting me," Tien finally said back to the other.

Malachi's half-smile clearly indicated how amused he was with his last comment which drew a furrowed brow from Tien. "I've never trusted anyone a day in my life," Malachi said, "And if I tell anyone, anything, it is purely out of convenience."

Malachi recited it as if it was mantra. It was in that moment that everything about Malachi made sense to Tien. Nothing he did was altruistic, but in some way benefited him. He saw people as little more than chess pieces on a board that could only hinder or help him. He used kindness to further his own agenda and not simply for the sake of decency. This realization nearly stopped him in his tracks as he began to ponder why Malachi had been so cooperative thus far. Before, he'd told everyone that Malachi would respond well to authority. What if it only seemed that way because it was convenient to Malachi? The less friction Malachi had with him meant that he would teach him his craft more thoroughly and Malachi would get more out of it. Maybe Malachi already knew that he valued trust and was simply simulating its presence.

Tien started class promptly as it was nearing the time and students were already filing in. He had nothing further to say to Malachi after that comment. There were plenty of things now to distract Malachi, but as the class wore on, Tien realized that he was just as focused as he had been yesterday. Normally he would applaud such fortitude, but in the back of his mind, he wondered if Malachi was even troubled to begin with or just going through the motions. Today's class reiterated what was learned in the last one and so went on in almost the same fashion as yesterday. Malachi was getting double practice in these techniques and it showed. His movement was sure and he moved smoothly into all the techniques. He managed to acquire the same partner as yesterday and easily floored the man. It was almost a relief when he had them switch up so that the other person could perform the move as well. Watching Malachi being floored multiple times, at least made him appear somewhat human.

After the next class, just as Malachi had said, he left for the day. Tien didn't see Malachi again until much later when he'd made it home again and Launch had joined him. He still needed to talk with Chiaotzu but he simply did not feel like doing it right then. The weekend would be a better time, he supposed. Right before they were beginning to think Malachi would be a no-show again, there was a knock on the door. Tien opened the front door to behold Malachi and Lilith. She was leaning on him and apparently needed assistance even to walk. He could tell immediately that she was not doing well.

"Good evening, you two," Tien said, "Come in—we made a lot of dinner today," he said stepping aside and letting them come through the doorway.

"Thanks," Malachi said.

"Really? That's all you have to say?" Lilith said. "This man is being extremely generous right now."

Tien saw a look of annoyance that quickly passed over Malachi's expression before he looked at Lilith with a feigned smile. "You're right," he said giving in without a fuss. "But words escape me at the moment—Tien knows how thankful I am."

In fact, Tien had no idea how thankful Malachi was, but he didn't feel it would be appropriate to point out something like that. The poor woman was clearly already having a hard time. Malachi helped her inside in an unrushed manner. Launch moved over so that she could have the nearest seat and didn't have to walk any further than necessary. Launch, by the way, was no longer blonde. Sometime before this evening, she must have sneezed. Either way, having her cooler temperament around at the moment was much appreciated. Tien suspected, however, that her other side would have handled the situation equally as well albeit a bit rough around the edges. In both temperaments, she was capable of caring about another person.

Lilith had a bright smile on her face and Malachi was on his best behavior; one might even believe that he was being genuine. In fact, Tien was starting to believe it as well. He made her plate for her, encouraged and complimented her at every chance he could get, and kept their conversation on lighter topics. Even Chiaotzu had joined in the conversation that evening. He often became quiet whenever Launch was around, but today Tien thought they'd made some progress.

Tien appreciated Malachi's efforts, but he wanted to hear from her how she was doing. When he asked near the end of dinner when everyone was practically finished eating, she reassured him that she was fine—as long as Malachi was there to support her, she had no doubt she'd pull through. It was a sugarcoated answer, but Tien did not want to pry.

When Lilith was ready to leave, Malachi helped her do so. He left with her and for the time being, the house consisted of him, Launch and Chiaotzu. They all collectively helped to clean up everything. As was usually the case these days, Tien spent the rest of his time with Launch and Chiaotzu retreated to his room.

"She doesn't look very well for the hospital to have let her leave. Did Malachi tell you anything?" Launch asked.

"He hasn't told me much," Tien said. "But he hasn't had the chance to. I saw him at the dojo and then I saw him just now. Sometimes I wonder if it's even a good time to be training at this point. Perhaps he should put that on hiatus—Lilith seems like she needs constant support."

"Maybe you should tell him that next time you get the chance."

"I will," Tien conceded, "Among other things."

The two of them stayed up rather late just talking and passing the time. Malachi returned as well, but he was talking on the phone with someone. Tien couldn't tell if the other knew they were there or not. Curiosity winning out, he started listening in and Launch as well.

"It wouldn't be a good time," Malachi said in slightly elevated tones. "Because I wouldn't actually be able to spend any time with you." There was a pause before he spoke again. "No, I'm not hiding anything—you know about Lilith and you know that I'm also training; that's all I'm doing." Another pause. "Yes, that's pretty time-consuming." This time there was a long pause before he said anything further. "You say that now, but I know you, Bra, you'd get jealous. It wouldn't be a good environment for you or her. I'm telling you, now is not a good time to visit. I could come see you, but the other way around would be silly." Another pause. "You'll be bored? You really can't find anything to do without Machi around?"

He'd been pacing since he got inside. Then at this moment, he decided to step back outside again where Tien was sure the call continued for some time. Launch, who was now splayed across his lap and had been for a while now, looked up at him with a concerned look.

"Yeah, I know," Tien said.

And that was all they said on the topic. Tien had no idea how things were going to turn out, but it certainly did not look peaceful.

* * *

 **In the next few months, Tien saw more of Lilith as it became routine for her to join him and the others at dinner.** Her skin always seemed pallid and despite feeding her the most nutritional food they could think of and that she could stomach, she appeared malnourished and exhausted. Launch had become part of his life as well. Sometimes she'd even come to the dojo with them and he'd carry her on his back. Since Launch's promotion courtesy of Malachi, she had more time to spend with him and Tien did not mind this at all.

Then there was Malachi. He was excelling in his training, ravenously devouring all the knowledge that he presented to him. His movements were sure and practiced well before anyone else in the class mere days after new techniques were taught—it was clear that Malachi also practiced on his free time. Between giving Lilith constant support and spending time with Machi, Tien suggested that he take a brief hiatus until things calmed down again, but Malachi would have none of it.

"I think without your classes, I truly would descend into madness."

Tien had looked at him with both a confused and concerned expression. He hadn't expected such a response. "Aren't you exaggerating a little?"

"For the brief time I'm here Monday through Friday, I don't have to think about anything but fighting and I can just put my all into it, accomplish something, put energy into something that is for my benefit alone. It takes my mind off of other things. Otherwise, I'd forever be thinking about everything else never taking a breather. And…" he paused probably unsure if he should continue. Tien suspected he'd reached a point that was quite personal. "And," he began again, "the creature's presence lessens ever so slightly; even something like that is relieving."

Up until that time, Malachi hadn't mentioned anything about the creature to him and especially not if the training was helping him in any way. Tien was glad to hear that this was benefiting him in some small way. As insignificant as it sounded, Malachi seemed to be clamoring for it. No, Malachi would never take a break from his classes—it balanced him just as Tien had thought it would and Malachi realized that he needed that.

Despite this revelation, Malachi was far from having a perfect attendance. Tien continuously forgot that Malachi was a recording artist and had previous obligations that he had to take care of. Charities, small television appearances, and, in general, keeping a presence in the media. There were many things that Malachi did that Tien found amusing all in the name of staying undercover. When he'd come back home after a leave of absence, his hair would be pin straight and then he'd spend hours trying to get it curly again—he'd never seen so many hair products before. Eventually, even Launch knew who he really was, but she promised to keep the knowledge to herself.

Students that frequented the dojo began to figure things out. He drew a lot of attention to himself not only because he clearly excelled in the class, but because he refused to cut off his hair. Soon, every morning before Tien opened up the dojo, there'd be a small, but manageable group of people who would want Malachi's signature. The entire affair would be handled quickly as Malachi obliged and signed all that they wanted, but Tien knew it would soon get out of hand.

One evening as he, Launch and Chiaotzu were enjoying another home cooked meal from Chiaotzu, there was a knock at the door. Tien looked about the table and concluded that none of them had the slightest idea who could be knocking. Malachi and Lilith hadn't joined them that evening because Tien was convinced Malachi abhorred the very idea of having a set routine. The reason he had given, however, was that he'd made her something a little early today because she seemed more faint than usual. Malachi hadn't stayed at the dojo for too much longer after his two classes after receiving a phone call and it was likely from Lilith. By the time he and Chiaotzu had come home, Malachi had already been there (Tien had given him a house key a while ago) and Tien had found him in his room typing away on his laptop.

Malachi hadn't mentioned anyone coming so Tien assumed whoever was at the door was likely a complete stranger. Eventually, Tien answered the door, but he was completely unprepared for who he would find behind it.

"Bra?" Tien asked instead of his standard greeting as he was struck by too much surprise.

"Did I come at a bad time?" she asked with a courteous smile.

"N-No, of course not. We were just sitting down for dinner. It's just a surprise to see you like this," Tien said somewhat recovering.

"I know it's a bit sudden, but I've literally had nothing to do since my grandparents decided they'd go on another excursion and take Machi with them, saying that I should get out more. Well, here I am."

"Here you are," Tien said back. "Does Malachi know you're coming?"

"Malachi—well, I was just getting to that. Is he here?"

"Well, yes, he's in his room."

"How has he been doing with your training?" Bra asked.

"He is doing quite well," Tien began, "But I expected he would. Soon he'll be moving on to the advanced classes."

"That's really great—I kinda figured though. Trunks couldn't believe he could last even a few days under my father's training."

"And your father's training is apparently more intense than mine," Tien said with a frown.

"Well…I was just trying to say that he had a good track record."

"Yes, I suppose he does. Would you like to come in and join us for dinner," Tien asked trying to put their conversation back on track. He hadn't expected to be spending so long answering the door.

"I already ate, but thank you for the offer."

Tien knew at that moment that Bra had come specifically for Malachi, not that this came as any surprise to him. Hardly any of his friends had seen fit to visit him in years let alone call him. Vegeta had been the first in quite some time. Now his daughter was visiting as well.

"His room is down the hall, first door on the right," Tien said knowingly as he moved aside to allow her entrance.

"Thank you," Bra said with a sheepish grin.

It was striking to him just how much she looked like Bulma. As he watched her walk pass he was reminded of days long passed. Bra acknowledged Chiaotzu briefly before making a beeline to Malachi's room. Chiaotzu looked at him with a confused expression when Tien walked into the room and he responded with a shrug. Whatever was happening, Tien did not want to get in between.

* * *

 **Bra took a deep breath as she stood beside Malachi's room.** She had known even before she'd knocked on Tien's door that he was there. She always knew where Malachi was even now when they were so-called not a couple anymore. Never did she think she'd be visiting Malachi again after she'd made her decision ages ago. He was simply too dangerous to be around. Malachi had confirmed this fact when they periodically spoke on the phone. She thought hearing his voice would be enough yet here she was. She blamed her grandparents. Their increasing concern for her lack of a social life outside of Machi's needs was annoying at best. She just didn't feel like dealing with people not even her two best friends and making Machi smile gave her life meaning.

Where had her life gone? She remembered a time when she used to enjoy it to the fullest. Now with Machi's absence it was as if she was in freefall and desperate for something to break her fall. Even if Malachi wasn't the answer, she couldn't talk herself out of wanting to see him again. She couldn't, as much as she tried to, talk herself out of believing that perhaps they could start over one day…

The door was open so she was able to step in easily. His energy had been languid, but she hadn't been sure he was asleep until that moment. It was still early in the evening for him to have called in for the night. Music was playing though not obnoxiously loud, a mellow song with a female singing despondently. On the bed, Malachi lay on his back with covers halfway on. His head was turned away from a slender laptop sat beside him still on as if he'd just been using it and had forgotten to turn it off. On his lap was a notebook. The pen that Bra suspected was used to write lay haphazardly on the side of the bed, half of it off the bed, half of it on it. If he moved just a little, the pen would likely fall. Seeing this, she walked over and picked up the pen before it met its demise. Then her eyes caught on to what was written on the notepad. His handwriting usually thin and neat, fitting perfectly within the lines now seemed a bit careless as if he'd been in a rush.

Verse 1:

 _Free range of the mind_

 _Maps the fire coasting the sideline_

 _Contact with an ease_

 _Tarnish point of the supreme_

 _Is it the strength of your fearless over throwing your pain?_

 _You'll see new heights to be reaching_

 _Is it today that you will find your new release?_

 _And in your wake, ripples your sweet fate._

Bra had no idea what this was about, but it had been denoted as the first verse. The second one started promptly:

Verse 2:

 _In the death of the grip of the mask_

 _That's covering your simple love for the part_

 _Of your soul so warm and vast_

 _And I can hear the hinges struggle to last rusting_

 _Feel my feathers rush from the past._

Bra still had no clue what any of it was about, but she continued to read nonetheless with the last grouping of lines.

Hook:

 _Building a ladder of love to you_

 _And I hope that love you build one too_

 _Building a ladder of love to you_

 _And I hope that love you build one too_

 _And then we fly away._

The phrasing was odd, but Bra thought she understood an inkling of what she'd just finished reading. Probably if he sang it, it would make more sense. Just reading the words didn't allow her to hear the tone or the pauses in between or which words had more emphasis. She was a bit curious as to what was on the next page, but she didn't want to chance him waking as she turned the page.

Seeing as he was asleep, she probably should have simply left and came at a better time, but she was so close and she'd come so far. She saw his cellphone on the nightstand beside him. Then a thought came to her. She took hers out and called his number. His phone started vibrating and beeping much to her amusement—she'd expected his ringtone to be a bit more involved, but, no, it was simply beeping. In the past, it hadn't been that way.

He awoke almost instantly at the sound of it and groaned in tiredness as he reached over to grab it. He barely had his eyes opened as he moved the screen in front of his face to read the name.

"Shit," he said under his breath, still not noticing her presence.

He appeared to have trouble sitting up and opening his eyes wider for all the sharp artificial lighting still on in the room. Then at some point, he seemed to give up and he began dropping off again.

"Malachi, it's me," Bra said before she missed her chance.

"What?" he croaked.

"It's me, Bra, standing in your room."

His head had made it to the backboard. It now cocked a little to the side as he apparently began to make her out. "Wha-what are you doing here?" he managed to ask as he redoubled his efforts to sit up.

"I was bored," she said.

He was sitting up now, but as he heard this, he bent his head down into his open palms. "No, seriously, why are you here?"

Bra crossed her arms haughtily expecting a warmer welcome. "Because every time I ask to visit, you always come up with some excuse and I didn't want to hear it anymore."

"But we agreed on this," Malachi said looking up at her now with clearer eyes. "That it would be safer this way and that I would come visit Machi occasionally."

"Lilith gets to see you almost every day—

"She lives right beside me. You want me to just ignore her?"

"No, but you're putting her in danger too, aren't you? You're putting everyone you live with in danger—and you want to use _that_ excuse as the reason I can't visit?"

"That's different," Malachi said as if it explained everything.

"How?" Bra demanded.

"Because I don't care about any of these people," Malachi said coldly, "If anything 'tragic' happened to them, it wouldn't matter to me in the slightest."

Bra unconsciously stepped back as she heard his change in tone. It was easy to see that perhaps he wasn't close friends with Tien or Chiaotzu. She didn't know them very well, but they did seem to be in their own little world. "B-but what about Lilith?" she asked despite herself. Some twisted jealous part of her wanted him to only say negative things about her.

"I spend the most time with her. She's always calling me, always wanting support and I watch her grow weaker every day. And every time I'm in close proximity to her, I wonder if I shouldn't just end her suffering. No one but her wants that thing inside of her to be born and she is a waste of space to everyone who has ever known her thus the state I found her in when I first met her: alone and abandoned."

Bra's eyes widened at this, hearing the words said aloud. It was easy for him, she realized, to sound a certain way on the phone or be a certain way to people for a limited time period, but this was likely his usual way of thinking. They'd left him with Tien. Somehow her father was okay with that and somehow this arrangement was working out. Somehow Malachi hadn't by now flown off the handle. Something was grounding him, something that he was interested in. It was likely the training, but Bra liked to think her presence helped as well.

"You can't just go around thinking that," Bra said, knowing it was dangerous to encourage him despite deriving a secret pleasure from his disregard for Lilith—she just hoped that feeling didn't extend to her as well. It didn't seem that way.

"Is that right," Malachi said with a grin, sitting up a little straighter, "Yet you don't sound all that upset about it."

"Trust me, I am," Bra said trying to cover up her tracks.

"Either way, you don't have to worry. I have other things to distract me."

"Like that notebook?" Bra said indicating the one on his bed that she replaced before he awoke.

Malachi lifted it up before closing it. "Actually, yes. Just a place where I write songs. This is just the latest notebook." he answered.

"But you told me you never write your own songs," Bra said.

"I never write songs that I actually use. I let others do it for me. To write something that would be palatable to the masses? That's a talent I don't have."

"So you just write stuff down and never use it?" Bra asked with some disbelief in her tone, "Are you just…too shy or something?"

"I've never been shy about anything—I don't think I'm going to start now," Malachi said with a grin. "Like I said, I work with a lot of people and I do trust their discretion. They've never led me wrong before."

"Hm. And let me guess. Those people you're talking about didn't like what you had."

"Quint, let me down easy years ago when I first started working with him. It was always about selling records and making sure your songs charted well. That takes more than just making a 'good' song. I understand more now than I did before, but it isn't a process I can replicate on my own and I don't plan on ever doing it."

Bra, who had been standing near his bed looking down at him now sat down on the side of it and made herself comfortable much to Malachi's amusement at least judging from his expression. He moved over a bit to allow her more room. She was building herself up to something, but she would take her time.

"Well, _I_ would like to hear what you've written down even if no one else approves."

He gave a short laugh, "I bet you would. You'd be less interested once you actually looked at it. It's almost all nonsensical with no clear message, no overarching theme, nothing to really understand."

"If you say so, but if it's not under lock and key, then I doubt you could keep it from me."

He was clearly not at all worried or put on edge by anything she was saying. More often than not this was the case. Things that she might grow anxious about—someone reading her old diary, someone ruining something she treasured, would have no reaction from him or at least one she thought was appropriate.

"Okay," he said simply and then handed her the notebook much to her surprise. "Making something hard to get to only makes it that much more desirable. If you're so curious, you can have it. I can easily get another notebook. You have a key to my place, don't you? There's quite a stack under my bed, but you likely won't get that far after parsing through this one."

He said this so confidently that she decided to set out and prove him wrong. A small voice in the back of her head, however, told her that he was probably right. Sitting down in one spot for hours and reading wasn't exactly one of her pastimes. Then the perfect idea came to her. Maybe she'd just read them to Machi at night. The more she thought about it, the more perfect it became.

"What's going on in that head of yours?" Malachi asked.

Bra smiled at him, "Nothing worth discussing," she said teasingly.

"You're really going to leave me in the dark?"

"You'll figure it out eventually," she said back.

He gave her an annoyed look, but he didn't seem up to questioning her further.

She realized that it was getting late and that she had chosen the end of the day to visit him against her better judgement. Maybe this was enough. Just seeing him in person would satisfy her needs. Only she knew she was lying to herself.

She stood up at this moment intending to make her exit. He'd been asleep when she first arrived and he likely would be busy the next day.

"So soon?" he asked her after she climbed off the bed. "You drove all the way down here for maybe an hour or two just to see me for a few minutes?"

Bra sighed. "To be honest, I don't know why I came, but I wanted to and I had the time."

Her admission did not draw a confused look from him as she thought it would. This was simply one of those moments when he seemed to be able to peer into her and find things that even she didn't know was there. They hadn't seen each other face to face like this in a long while and certainly not by themselves.

"Come here," he said as he moved his laptop onto the floor.

Usually, Bra didn't like to be ordered around, but he had done so in a gentle tone and every once in a while when she was indecisive, it was nice when he took charge. Others she had dated had not been so tactful. Once she broke them in, they remained that way and followed her every whim. It was entertaining for a while, but soon she'd grow bored and move on to the next one. It wasn't until Malachi, that she realized that perhaps an equal partnership was what she preferred. Being swept off her feet wasn't an altogether terrible feeling.

She climbed onto bed which he clearly indicated when he lifted the covers for her. As she slowly made her way to the spot next to him, she felt the plushness of the comforter and mattress. She felt like a mischievous little cat finally decided on the perfect place to curl up. After she slid under the covers, he made sure there was enough for her to get comfortable. There were no words spoken at this point as he simply reached out and turned the lamp off, the only light source in the room. Very quickly it became dark as he too settled in.

Bra couldn't decide who had moved first, but eventually they were entangled with each other. She could feel his familiar warmth, his body temperature usually mild and not overpowering. He was someone who grew cold easily and warmed up slowly. Her head was near his chest so she could make out his heartbeats, slow and unhurried. He wasn't at all nervous, rarely was he ever.

Music was still playing and she could hear it better now that they were quiet. It wasn't surprising that a slow tempo ballad was playing as it was something that she knew Malachi liked. Though he listened to a wide variety of music, it eventually came back to this. It was also sleep inducing. A man sang ardently in a flowery high tenor voice.

 _Ooh, la, la, la, la_

 _I did you wrong_  
 _My heart went out to play_  
 _But in the game I lost you_  
 _What a price to pay_  
 _I'm cryin'_

 _Ooh baby, baby_  
 _Ooh baby, baby_

 _Mistakes I know I've made a few_  
 _But I'm only human_  
 _You've made mistakes too_  
 _I'm cryin'_

 _Ooh baby, baby_  
 _Ooh baby, baby_

 _I'm just about at the end of my rope_  
 _But I can't stop tryin'_  
 _I can't give up hope_  
 _Cause I'll be here_  
 _And on one day I'll hold you near_  
 _Whisper I still love you_  
 _Until that day is here_  
 _I'm cryin'_

 _Ooh baby, baby_  
 _Ooh baby, baby_  
 _Ooh baby, baby_  
 _Ooh, Ooh_  
 _Baby, baby_  
 _Oohoo_

Bra looked over at Malachi to comment on how coincidentally relevant that song happened to be, but he was asleep. He'd likely been for a while. "Well," she said after a moment. "Sweet dreams." It wasn't long before she joined him as well.

* * *

 **AN:** Surprise visit from Bra! And it didn't turn out too badly.

 **WildHeart44:** Poor Chiaotzu so used to hanging out with Tien. It'll be quite an adjustment. I knew you'd be happy about that.


	31. A Merciful Love

**Lilith felt drained as she struggled to get up that morning.** That feeling had become worse the further into the pregnancy she'd gotten. She was now on her final trimester and it was all she could do to remain steady on her feet. Determinedly she did so as she shuffled over to the bathroom to clean herself. If anything, she needed to look halfway decent for him—the man of her dreams, the man who was the epitome of perfection.

He came at her beck and call for any little thing that she wanted. Was this reality or simply a fantasy world she had made up in her overactive imagination? He smiled so easily and he always held her tenderly. Surely, this was what he wanted. When they had become friends and he had begun coming to her more regularly as she continued to give him piano lessons, she realized that if she was ever to become a mother in her lifetime, her child would have to be fathered by him and no one else. That thought had remained in her mind the more he opened up to her and the more she kept dreaming about it. That other woman had left him for reasons that were silly and didn't seem fair. She'd taken him for granted clearly and now he was forced to recover from some recent altercation all on his own with people he barely knew. Lilith didn't claim to know the entire situation, but from what she could see Malachi was the victim and she was the one he came to for comfort. She decided she would give him what he sought for and what he didn't know he wanted as well.

She used the piano lessons as an excuse to have him nearby, but he clearly wanted to learn. A lesser man would have taken the opportunity and begin to come onto her already. He was so frustratingly chaste that it became endearing. Maybe everything he did became that way in her eyes, but this truly made him desirable. He was too shy to take the first step—she did for him. He resisted strangely enough, but she knew what he wanted.

She'd spent hours drawing the portrait of him, but she did not tell him about all the other portraits she'd drawn of him as well. A few times, he'd fallen asleep while he was at her place: once on the couch and another time on her bed when she'd invited him to it and he'd accepted, falling asleep before she could get anything started with him. Each time, she'd taken extensive pictures seeing it as a rare opportunity. Those pictures she kept to herself and worked on when he wasn't around. He was never peaceful while asleep, but troubled and worried. Even so, she considered such pictures to be especially exquisite.

On that fateful night, when she was able to seduce him when he could no longer muster up any resistance, she felt as if she was the most powerful woman in the world. She'd entertained him and he responded with surprising force. Perhaps he'd held her a bit too tightly and handled her a bit too roughly. She attributed it to being too long without a woman in his bed. Despite the bruises on her skin the following morning, she felt invincible. She was sure she'd made him climax at least twice that night. When she'd awoken, she found him still deeply asleep and naked. She could fully appreciate his perfect form, toned and muscular, but not overly so. Had she her camera at that point, she would have taken a plethora of pictures but it was not to be. Instead, she sufficed with a kiss on the forehead, moving aside his dark curly locks. Then she realized that this couldn't suffice as her eyes strayed to his perfect lips, closed and primed for her to place her own onto them. She kissed him on the lips once quickly, but then she kissed him again this time longer. It was a bit odd as he was not responding to her, but that was par for the course. Before she could try again, however, she was stopped when he actually said something.

"Stop, turn that off…" he said quite clearly before turning over on his side much to her amusement.

She took this as her cue to leave, but when she stood up she nearly fell down with the sudden bout of pain in her leg. Cautiously, she stepped forward trying to control when she felt it again. Somehow she'd sprained her leg. Last night was even rougher than she first assumed. She gathered her clothes and eventually limped all the way back to her house not wanting to awkwardly deal with his housemates. What had happened that night was personal and special. Physical pain was the least of her concerns.

Since that time, she bought pregnancy test after pregnancy test to figure out if the deed had been done. All that while she became closer to him, finding out more and more about him and liking everything she heard. It was killing her not to tell him during that time, but she needed to be sure. For whatever reason, despite buying the most accurate pregnancy detectors, she was negative for so long that she began to lose hope. Then one day it was positive—it was the most momentous day of her life. Immediately, she called him to tell him the good news. Though she was met with a lukewarm response, it did little to dull her excitement. He would come around eventually. She knew he would and she'd been right. Ever since she told him of her pregnancy, he had been there by her side without fail.

Yet there had always been one thing she'd been afraid of asking him and she avoided asking it at all costs until she found she could no longer live not knowing. Going off of action alone wasn't quite good enough. She wanted to hear those three little words from him. He'd been so kind and gentle lately. He opened doors for her, allowed her to lean on him for support, and continuously told her that everything was going to be alright despite all the evidence to the contrary. Clearly, he loved her. He just hadn't found the time to tell her. She'd waited and waited before realizing that he would likely never say it on his own. That was perfectly normal for a guy—they weren't the most touchy-feely of people, even Malachi apparently.

After making herself presentable, she made her way to the living room where he would feel the most comfortable and then called him. She did her usual affair of claiming that she could really use his support and to bring food because she was feeling faint. Sure, she could have called up delivery or thrown together some scrambled eggs and toast, but Malachi was always there to help. Either he would bring her something far more filling from a local restaurant or take the time to make it himself, but it hardly mattered to her only that he would be there beside her. This being the weekend, he would not be training, but maybe just getting up. It wouldn't take him long to arrive. Within the next twenty minutes, he was opening her door carrying a full tray of food that smelled disarmingly good.

"What did you bring me this time?" Lilith asked with delight.

"A little something I made: an omelet filled with cheese, tomato, spinach, and steak, and grits. Along with a tall glass of milk and a cup of yogurt. Do me a favor and eat everything this time—you still don't look very well."

He set the food down on the table beside her and then moved the table so that it was better positioned in front of her and close enough to reach.

"Oh, I'll be fine," she said with a smile, "As long as you're here with me."

"You always say that," he said with a tsk, "And yet here we are."

"Yes, here we are—I'm alive and…well, basically well," she said with a giggle.

"That you can be so carefree even now, amazes me," he said back.

He was pacing back and forth across her living room floor. Her eyes followed him for a while before looking down at her food and then finally taking a bite. The melted cheese coming from the omelet was heavenly along with the burst of flavor coming from the tomato and steak. Everything he made was exactly what the doctor had suggested she eat on a daily basis, dairy and food full of iron and protein.

"Sit down," she said pleasantly after a few minutes, "Stay awhile."

He stopped pacing for a moment and looked her way before finally joining her on the couch though with arms crossed. It was behavior that she had gotten used to. Every time she asked what was on his mind, he would always say her and how she was doing. Now was no different, she supposed. She felt his eyes on her and she found long ago that she liked the sensation it gave her when he was looking her over. He usually wasn't sexually motivated as he did this, but a girl could dream.

"You're still not showing," he said after a moment, "Were it not for the doctor confirming, I wouldn't think you're pregnant at all."

"The doctor said it wasn't unheard of for a first-time mother to not show much at all for the entire time," she reminded him as she cut off another piece of the omelet.

"Yeah, I know what he said—it's still strange."

She looked back towards him after another moment when she realized he was done evaluating her, drawing his attention once again. He didn't seem to be at his best. He looked exhausted almost as much as she felt right then.

"So, you haven't been getting enough sleep," she said aloud.

He sighed. "Sometimes I do, sometimes I don't."

"Like last night?"

"Like last night," he confirmed. Then he sat up a bit straighter on the couch. "I had a weird dream last night." It was rare that he shared such information with her so she was all ears as he continued. "I was completely submerged in water and when I kept swimming upwards, it seemed like I was making no progress. Everything just looked the same. Then I heard a voice that I couldn't recognize and it said a bit frantically 'Please, don't hurt me. Don't hurt me, please.'"

"What did you do then?" she asked despite herself knowing that he was going to continue anyway. He gave her an annoyed look for her trouble.

"I kept swimming upwards, of course. Besides hearing that same voice and that same phrase every once in a while, nothing else happened—and then you called me."

"You're right, that was a weird dream. Glad that I called you?"

"Hm, no, actually, otherwise I likely would not have remembered any of it."

"Details, details," she said with a laugh. "Was it a girl or a boy, that voice?"

"It was hard to tell," Malachi said thoughtfully.

"What do you think it means?"

"Probably nothing at all," he said dismissively with a shrug.

Lilith knew better. He would not have gone out of his way to tell her if it wasn't on his mind, but she also didn't want to press for details—it would likely annoy him further. She had started on her yogurt which was nice and cold. She'd mentioned before that she liked strawberries and she couldn't help but think it was the reason why he'd given her strawberry yogurt. She liked to think that was the case.

"Malachi," she said after she took a small scoop of the yogurt. He looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "I know this is a bit out of the blue, but I just need to hear you say it. Do you love me?"

Malachi looked at her quizzically. "Why would you ask me something like that when you already know the answer?"

She looked at him with a smile as she thought she knew what he meant, but then he scowled at her.

"You can't really be that delusional, can you?" he said causing her to pause between bites.

"What are you saying?" she asked in disbelief. This was not how she imagined this conversation going. "Just answer me directly."

Malachi didn't answer her immediately. Instead, he stood up and began pacing once again. She watched him with concern unsure of what was happening.

"What are you—" At that moment, he'd walked up to her and placed an index finger over her mouth with a look that made it clear that he wanted her to remain quiet. She looked at him wide eyed.

"I'm trying to think of a scenario in which I could ever fall for a woman like you—it simply isn't possible."

"But—" Her efforts to speak was again stopped by his finger as he stood almost in front of her now beside the table the plate had been placed on.

"If you treasure living more than dying, you won't say another word for a while. Trust me, you don't want to piss me off further—just listen."

Lilith didn't know what was happening. All she knew was that she felt very cold at that moment and that she was speaking to some imposter that wasn't Malachi. Where had his smile gone? Why was his voice drier and far less pleasant?

"Anything other than friends would be a stretch and quite one-sided. You were convenient and you being an artist of some regard yourself could understand me where others might not. And I did enjoy the time I spent learning piano from you. Now I can further my skill on my own time. But even as a friend our relationship is basically nonexistent. You understand that you betrayed me, don't you? You lied to me and jeopardized my chances with the woman who I'm still not willing to let go—the one I told you about in great detail on many occasions. I didn't know how she would react to hearing the news, but it was far better than I expected. It is only because of her that you can sit here so comfortably asking me asinine questions. This entire façade of undying support has been an exercise of restraint for me. Because I know if I slip up somewhere, that it would be a slippery slope and I wouldn't be able to stop myself and even if I could, Bra would find out eventually. I'd just tell her myself—I can't lie to her anymore, I made that promise to myself. There's no way she _wouldn't_ start to wonder if she too was in danger and she'd most certainly pull away.

"You wanted to know if I loved you—that has never been the case and it never will be. Once that thing is born—they can't even figure out the gender at this point—I will cut you out of my life completely because I don't like it when my woman is jealous. I would have done this more tactfully, but here we are and it seems I've lost all semblance of patience. You would move elsewhere because nothing you do requires that you stay in this particular town and I would be generous and completely pay for some adequate place for you far, far away. You would agree to let me have sole custody of that child because no child of mine no matter how misshapen and weird should be in the presence of a delusional parasite like you and that would be the end of it."

Tears were in her eyes the longer he spoke and the drearier it all began to sound.

"Are you going to cry now?" he asked in annoyed tones. "Do you need a hug?"

She nodded at him, perking up at the mention of him being close to her again in a loving way.

The same annoyed look remained on his face. "Unbelievable. It's as if you've tuned out that entire speech I just gave. I won't be repeating myself." He walked a little ways from her. "I need some air. When I return, that plate better be empty."

With that he left. She flinched when she heard the front door slam violently. It sent shivers down her spine.

* * *

 **Malachi wasn't thinking about Lilith at the moment after he stepped outside.** Instead, he walked the short distance to the house and went around to the back so that he could do something that always took his mind off of everything—training. He'd learned a plethora of new techniques to add to his repertoire and he decided to simply go over all of them in secession. The more he repeated such techniques, the easier they would be to incorporate into his fighting style. He realized a long time ago that he already had one, but it was unrefined and quite exploitable.

After nearly an hour of this having not even broken a sweat, his phone began vibrating in his pocket. He was in a much calmer state of mind when he answered it despite knowing that it was Lilith.

"Yes?" he asked pleasantly, "Have you finished your food?"

"I have," she said quickly. "But…But I think my water just broke and there's-and there's a lot of blood."

"Your water broke? But you haven't had any contractions," he said confused.

"I don't know!" she shouted frantically, "Just get here already and take me to the doctor!"

"On my way."

Despite their earlier argument, he was still going to help her as he had planned from the beginning. That was never going to change. He was running now first to his car so that he could bring it as close as possible to Lilith's place and then inside where she was. Seeing the bloody scene before him—she was sitting on the couch and blood was now on the couch and floor where she'd likely stood up. She was understandably hysterical. Nothing about this seemed right. Maybe this was a miscarriage.

"Okay, okay," Malachi said remaining calm and placing his hands on her shoulders. I'm going to grab some towels and you're going to wait out there by the car. I won't be long. Once I put the towels in the seat, we're going to head to the doctor's office. If you feel any contractions, just let me know, but we should be there within five minutes. Do you understand?"

She nodded to him gratefully and began immediately following what he said. Meanwhile, he went to her hallway closet and grabbed as many towels as could fit into his arms before rushing outside. He threw some in the back and quickly made a nest for her in the seat both for her and his benefit. He didn't want his car being ruined by whatever was happening at that moment and he also knew it would be more comfortable than sitting on leather seats for her. He jumped into the car and drove as smoothly as possible.

"Anything?" he asked her when they were halfway to the doctor's office. He'd just gotten off the phone with the doctor there to make sure they were ready for them.

"No," she said shaking her head.

"No pain, no feeling like you need to pee?"

"No, no, none of that," she said as her voice became unsteady, "I don't feel anything—It just feels numb…down there."

"What?" Malachi asked looking over at her. He'd read nothing about that. She was sobbing now as tears freely flowed. "The important thing is that we need to remain calm—"

"This is _your_ fault!" she yelled at him tearfully, "Because you wouldn't say that you loved me!"

"Are you serious? That has nothing to do with this!" he said back in a raised voice.

"Yes it does!" she cried out willfully, "The doctor said to avoid stress and you stressed me out!"

He was silent for a moment before responding. His mood had softened a little when he began to hear reason. "You're right," he said finally when they arrived at the place. He turned to her since the car was stopped and looked at her with eyes he hoped conveyed deep sorrow. "I am _so_ sorry, okay? I don't know what came over me. I was just afraid to say it before." Her eyes brightened at this. "I love you, Lilith, like no one else before." She was smiling at him again much to his relief. She was calmer and not as panicked—he'd done his job, but maybe it was too late.

Maybe she was right and he'd been the one responsible for his child's death. The chances for there not being complications were abysmally low and adding more stress into the mix might have been the straw that broke the camel's back. If only he'd been on his good behavior for a little while longer…The nurses were coming out in droves and they were helping Lilith out of the car and already checking preliminary things like her temperature and state of mind. Malachi followed knowing that his presence might help matters a little.

They took her to a room where the doctor was waiting and laid her on the bed. The doctor asked her similar questions about her contractions and if she was feeling any pain, but she was only able to shake her head and say no. Each time, she squeezed his hand a bit harder. Then she was crying out in terror seemingly out of nowhere. When he tried to calm her, she seemed too far gone for his efforts.

"Lilith, Lilith, what's wrong?" Malachi asked in concern tones, but she was in her own world crying out. He looked to the doctor. "What's wrong with her?"

The doctor didn't have an answer for him. Instead, he was hitching up her dress probably to see more clearly what was happening.

"She's losing too much blood," the doctor said finally. He turned to one of the nurses standing by. "I need you to get an IV drip set up for her—2mg of Stadol," he said quickly.

Malachi watched the exchange questionably.

"It's for the pain," the doctor said to his questioning looks, "and her dehydration. I need her more stable before I run more tests on her. This may take some time, but I need you to be here to keep her calm."

The nurses were bringing more towels out at this point as blood continued to discharge from her opening. Drips of blood had already begun falling to the ground—the towels couldn't be brought fast enough. It was all quite disconcerting. The IV drip was set up under a minute by another nurse. Malachi stayed by her side just as the doctor had suggested and he tried to get through to her. Her cries of pain were beginning to get to him and he was beginning to feel quite guilty. It wasn't only what had happened earlier, but the fact that his own mutated DNA might be the reason for all this and he hadn't bothered telling her about it. She could be dying and not ever know the real reason for it—he certainly couldn't tell her now.

After a few minutes, she began to calm as the medication took effect and her eyes closed as well in exhaustion. The nurse nearby was checking her pulse once again and giving the doctor the okay. Malachi had no idea what they were going to do, but he watched silently. The doctor clearly needed to pull up her dress even further as he rolled back the fabric quickly. Then, all of a sudden, she was awake again and crying out.

"Doctor, come see this," one of the nurses said who was changing the towel once again.

Despite himself, Malachi moved to see as well. Something red and gelatinous squeezed out of her cervix and he couldn't stop his expression from turning to one of disgust as he heard wet, squishing noises. The doctor called for a blood transfusion as the blood loss increased substantially, but Malachi knew it was too late. He could see it in her eyes. She grew quiet as her eyes met his. He thought he saw a ghost of a smile on her lips as her life faded away.

Her life signs were checked and her death was confirmed. The room had grown quiet as the bloody scene was cleaned by the nurses. What was supposed to be a baby almost to term in her stomach looked like nothing human. There was no form and the doctor couldn't confirm at the time whether that was the baby or some strange discharge. After looking at it for almost a minute, Malachi wanted no more to do with it and so it was taken away.

Her skin was translucent and she looked greatly diminished—a far cry from the healthy woman he'd met on first arriving in the small town. A quick death was one thing. Watching someone suffer and decline over a long span of time was something quite different. Though he doubted he'd shed any tears over her, he was still saddened from the outcome. It wasn't what he had planned. All that restraint he had practiced for so long—he wondered if he should have simply put her out of her misery to begin with.

He was left in the room with her for a while. There was nothing more he wanted to say. Instead, he picked up his phone and flicked through his contacts. A long time ago, he'd added Lilith's family contacts to his just in case. He called up her mother because she had told him that she was closer to her than anyone else in her family. The phone rang and rang as expected. Malachi didn't think many people would automatically answer strange new numbers. He left a message with her.

"This is Malachi, a close friend of Lilith. I regret to inform you that your daughter has passed away today at about this time. I know you've been estranged from her for a long time, but considering the circumstances you should be the one to deal with matters. If you have any questions, call me back at this number."

He hung up right before the doctor came back in again to discuss things. If her loved ones could not be contacted, he would likely be the one to make decisions about her body along with her belongings. He left the place soon after and decided not to drive home immediately.

He drove for a long while losing track of time before turning on a GPS to find some quiet place in a park or something along those lines. He chose the first location that popped up on his search and was there in a short time. Once there, he rolled all the windows down and cranked up the music.

* * *

 **AN** : Lilith's POV—first and last time.

 **WildHeart44** : Somehow, I feel as if this chapter is dedicated to you.


	32. Losing Grasp on Reality

**The training kept him grounded just as it had always done from the very beginning.** He'd already moved on to the intermediate classes. Becoming more powerful was what he strove for once he realized that there were others far better than him. That he still had a long ways to go felt somehow encouraging. There was more to do, more to learn. Even as he became more focused on his training, life still continued on around him.

Two days after Lilith's passing, Malachi watched unfamiliar guys going in and out of her house. They were a hired moving company. He'd received no phone calls from her family, but at the very least, they'd gotten his message. Lilith hadn't put down any of her family members as emergency contact—just him. As far as he knew, she had no will. Most people their age didn't bother with one; Malachi was not most people and he updated it anytime he felt the need to. He never pictured himself dying of old age so he saw such things as pertinent.

He hadn't told his housemates about what had happened immediately. He simply did not feel like talking about it. If he wanted to, he could have kept the entire affair to himself, but he knew he needed to tell someone else. Bottling things up inside never turned out well. Tien expressed some concern about him after he was told of Lilith's passing and the botched pregnancy, but Malachi reassured him that he was fine. In reality, he simply did not want to talk further about it.

He dreaded the moment Bra might call; he wasn't ready for that. She would want far more details than what he'd given Tien. Thankfully, he never received a call from her that day. In fact, he didn't receive a call from anyone much to his relief. He realized very quickly that he did not feel like dealing with people. Usually he stayed to watch the other class. Today, he left abruptly though he had no other plans. He walked aimlessly around town, but eventually grew tired of this. By the time he got home, it was still daytime. When he looked over at Lilith's place, he noticed that the men were gone. Her car was no longer in the driveway and the windows were darkened. Despite himself, he stood out on the porch gazing at what was now her empty house. He wondered when a "For Sale" sign would appear on her yard and if anyone would be willing to move there. After a while, he moved on to the house.

Having nothing else to do, he simply lied down in bed staring at the ceiling feeling absolutely nothing. He wasn't particularly tired, but he closed his eyes going through the motions.

 _Please, don't hurt me. Don't hurt me, please._

A familiar smell that he could not place passed over his nose which caused him to open his eyes again. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, but he felt something nearby. He wasn't sensing ki, but the _essence_ of something alive and breathing. Then he heard a soft liquid sound, bubbling slowly. Cautiously, Malachi sat up and his eyes went straight to the spot where his ears were hearing something. Was it something in the corner of his eye? A flit of red vanished behind his nightstand. He bent down holding his head in hands wondering if he was slowly going crazy.

 _Please, don't hurt me. Don't hurt me, please._

He groaned when he heard that disembodied voice. It was likely the same one from his dream; he wondered if he'd fallen asleep somehow.

 _Father…_

His eyes widened at this as his mind was transported back to the doctor's office and what he had seen that day. It was something he wanted to forget, but such a macabre thing stayed in his mind. The thing which had likely been growing inside her for almost nine months looked nothing like a fetus or a baby. It was shapeless and gelatinous. Unmoving. Dead.

His hands which held his head was now shaking knowing that he was the one that created such an abomination—it was a reflection of himself. Why did people insist on giving him so many chances? Why did he try so hard to maintain some semblance of civility when he knew he was the exact opposite? He didn't want to think so lowly of himself, but he was no longer who he used to be. Something dark and twisted infested his soul and no amount of pretending and acting would change that. Lilith's fate reminded him of this fact. Though she had her faults, she had not asked to end up that way. No one would have asked for that.

"I'm…sorry," he managed to say barely over a whisper.

A stinging sensation in his eyes caused him to clench his eyes shut, but eventually a tear dropped down though it didn't make it far down his face.

 _Why are you sorry? Did you do something wrong?_

Malachi finally lifted his head and looked around the small space of his room. There was nothing there, but he still felt a presence. Maybe this was the moment when he truly lost his mind, a moment he hoped would never come. Rather than fight against it, he simply gave in. His resolve had left him and there was nothing to grasp onto.

"I've done so many things wrong," he answered helplessly.

 _You seem nice._

"Then you don't know me very well," he replied.

 _Which do you prefer to have? A son or a daughter._

The question was strange, but he thought about it anyway. "A son," he answered after a while. "But it doesn't matter either way."

 _Okay._

He heard the same soft viscous noises and he turned to look on the ground again. This time, however, he was able to see it; a thick puddle of red. Bubbles slowly rose to the top as it slid closer to the bed.

"What the hell," Malachi exclaimed, wide eyed as he moved backwards quickly in both fear and surprise. He fell to the floor on the other side of the bed, but his fall was broken by something wet and soft. He was scrambling to his feet now and looking to the floor. Sure enough, the sentient red substance was there. "You…Did you…?"

Malachi could hardly finish his sentence as he gazed down at it. He watched as something began to protrude and rise from the center. At first shapeless, it slowly formed into a little hand and an arm sticking up from the puddle. He watched transfixed as more human parts began to form.

" _I want to be like you, father."_

The voice sounded more distinct, like that of a small boy. Though he knew where it must have been coming from, the sound of the voice was directionless.

" _I want to be as you want me to be."_

Malachi looked at the strange mass utterly confused. He was unprepared for it to spring forth, covering his entire field of vision. He found he couldn't breathe or cry out as he tried to yank it off. There was nothing to grip, it's surface smooth and slippery. Just as he felt something going up his nostrils, he blacked out.

* * *

 **"Malachi? Malachi!" he heard Tien's voice say as he shook him.**

Though he heard him and wanted to proceed to waking, he had trouble opening his eyes. With great effort, he managed to see a little of the outside world, but its brightness was painful. He felt that he was on the ground. Judging from the throbbing pain on the back of his head, he must have wound up falling backwards. Very slowly, he sat up with a groan as the bright world danced around him.

"You're bleeding," Tien said to him nearby. "What happened in here?"

"I don't know," he said groggily. For all he knew, it could have all been some crazy dream though it didn't explain why he was on the floor.

He heard Tien climb to his feet. "I know the past couple of days have been difficult for you. If you need someone to—"

"I know," Malachi said cutting across him.

He was just beginning to make things out again properly when he heard the door to the closet open with a sharp creak. It caused both of their heads to turn. Out stepped a little boy who wore nothing more than a shirt that hung loosely on him. He possessed long shaggy black hair that hung over his face enough to cover up one of his eyes. The other eye which could be seen was light blue in color. At the moment, he was smiling brightly with hands behind his back. There was utter silence for a while until the child broke it.

"Daddy, I'm hungry," the boy said loudly.

Malachi pointed at himself with a confused look wondering if he was referring to him, but he got his answer as the boy ran over and wrapped his arms around him. He didn't really know what to make of him or the situation, but he did remember something he had said to himself after he saw Lilith's first ultrasound: no matter what form that child took, he would make sure that they were taken care of. Despite nothing making sense, the act of what looked like a small boy embracing him in such a way gave him a warm feeling. He returned the favor. The boy smelled strangely of sweet lilacs—it was his favorite scent.

"I had no idea you had…adopted," Tien said.

Malachi had almost forgotten that he was there. "It's a long story," Malachi said, "Or, at least, you wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"I've seen a lot of things in my time," Tien said, "I might just believe you if you explain yourself."

He still had an arm around the child as he looked up at the other. "At a better time—not around the kid."

"Daddy, I'm huuungry," the boy complained again.

"I heard you the first time," Malachi said as he glanced down at the now pouty boy. "When did you get here? I thought you'd be with Launch by now—it being the weekend," he said with a grin.

"I would be, but something came up at the store that she needed to take care of. Lucky I came when I did." He looked around for a moment and then stopped when he saw a Kleenex box under the nightstand. He took a few tissues from it. "Here," he said handing it to Malachi. "For your nose."

Malachi vaguely remembered Tien mentioning blood and he took the time to wipe it off. Sure enough, a red stain formed on the white surface. He wondered if this was indeed blood or perhaps residue. It was difficult to mentally work through the strangeness of the circumstances.

"I'm huuuungry, Daddy," the boy whined.

This time Malachi looked down at him fully, officially annoyed with the insistent boy having not known him for more than a few moments. "If you say that one more time, I will make sure you eat nothing for the rest of the week." Malachi released him from his grasp. The boy said nothing more for the time being. In fact, he looked a bit frightened—a sight that did not disturb Malachi in the slightest.

He didn't bother trying to evaluate whether Tien approved of his empty threat, instead he was more concerned about finally climbing to his feet. He'd been ignoring that eventuality for some time now. He made sure he could at least feel his legs and used the bed as support. He struggled a bit—and he heard Tien move a little closer—but he was able to do so after a few moments. He felt much weaker than he thought and a bit lightheaded.

"Are you alright?" Tien asked.

"I'll be fine eventually. I hope," Malachi said turning to him. There was actual concern in his eyes which caught him a little off guard. He absently wondered what it felt like to be truly concerned for another—it had been so long since he'd experienced it. Seeing it first hand was almost a spectacle. He knew he didn't deserve such a reaction from him. "Come on, kid, I'll give you a reward for being so nice and quiet."

When he heard the small padding feet behind him, he couldn't help but grin to himself—only a child would continue following someone after being threatened of starvation. Malachi wasn't sure how much time had passed, he wasn't even sure if it was appropriate to be making dinner now—all he knew was that the boy was hungry.

"Does he have a name?" Tien asked.

"Honestly, I haven't gotten that far," Malachi said as he casually parsed through the refrigerator. "I'm tired of trying to make sense of it. Not too long ago, I thought…" He didn't finish his sentence when he glanced over at the boy who piped up with a smile.

Just then he heard a cellphone vibrating. He instinctively knew it was Tien's since he didn't feel the vibrations. Soon Malachi lost his concerned housemate to a phone call that he suspected was Launch. Meanwhile, Malachi took out a few items from the fridge to make a decent sandwich.

"Whatcha making?" the little boy asked who was now peering over the counter.

His small, intrusive voice startled him a little. "A sandwich," Malachi said. "Ever tried one?"

The boy looked up thoughtfully. "Umm….no, but I know lots of people have. I know there's a lot of different kinds and most people really like them."

"Ah," Malachi said not expecting such an answer. "And where did you learn that?"

"The same way I learned how to talk. Absorbing information from people."

"Absorbing?" Malachi asked not liking the sound of it.

"What I did with you to find out what I should look like."

"I don't have a particular opinion on that sort of thing—" he paused and looked down at the boy as a thought came to him, "Are you telling me that you're going around jumping into people, their heads, leaving them unconscious and going about your way?"

"First off, you did have an opinion, a very specific one, but it was difficult to find so it took me longer. But don't worry I didn't mess with anything else. And since I've decided on my appearance, I can't seem to change like I used to, but I think I'm getting used to this form."

"Well…" Malachi said not knowing how to respond to this information. "What about the whole absorbing people's knowledge thing?"

"I can't do it anymore. I can't change. The first person I entered was a doctor. He's a very smart man and I learned quite a bit from him."

"Is he alive?" Malachi asked finally glancing at the boy again.

"He's fine. Just a little disoriented. It was pretty quick. With you, I was looking for specific information, it took longer. You're fine too, right?"

"Basically," Malachi said as he finished up his masterpiece and cut it in half. "Here, your first sandwich. Enjoy." He'd turned and was handing over the plate.

The boy quickly took up one half and almost sank his teeth into it before he was stopped by Malachi.

"Hey, take the plate, kid—I'm not your dedicated plate holder. Go to the table and eat."

Obediently, the child followed his instruction and he watched from afar. Tien finished up with the phone and made his way over.

"Are you gonna be okay here with this kid or should I stay and keep an eye on things."

"No, I'll be fine. And…I'll try to explain things to you as best I can, but later. You should go."

Tien didn't leave immediately much to Malachi's annoyance claiming that he and Launch could spend some time at the house—Malachi shook his head in dismissal practically repeating his last statement. With this, Tien eventually left and Malachi found himself alone in the house with the boy. The little boy was slowly making his way through the elaborate sandwich despite his apparent hunger. Perhaps sandwiches weren't his favorite. Malachi had no idea as he stood in the kitchen leaning against the counter watching the other. He felt odd; he couldn't quite place the sensation along with still feeling enervated from whatever had occurred before. For now, it was easy enough to ignore. He made his way over to the table undecided on what he should say to him or an even better question—what should he do with him. Though he had dismissed Tien quickly enough wanting to figure things out for himself, it would have been nice to have a second opinion.

"Do you like it?" Malachi asked casually.

"It's wonderful," the boy exclaimed, "I've never tasted anything like it."

"I bet you haven't."

The boy looked familiar and it was beginning to bother him the more he looked. He couldn't quite place him.

"What are you gonna' call me?" the boy asked.

"What?" Malachi asked with a raised eyebrow.

"What are you gonna' call me? You're called Malachi. Your friend is called Tien."

"I see," Malachi said in understanding. "I don't know right now. Your mother had a few ideas, but I wasn't paying attention. And I—well, if I ever had a son, I was planning on naming him—"

"Vegeta?" the boy said questioningly with a smile.

"Yeah. How did you—Nevermind, don't answer that. Anyways, that won't work for you."

"Why not?" the boy asked, his voice almost squeaky.

"Because you're not what I expected."

This got a rise out of the boy. "What do you mean? I made sure I looked just like you expected and—"

"Will you quit saying things like that, you tryhard?" Malachi said sharply in raised tones just as he felt a headache coming on. "You talk as if I had some perfect blueprint as to what I wanted some theoretical son to look like. It doesn't work like that and anyone who actively has a working idea like that are probably pretty shitty people to begin with. No one should have _control_ over that sort of thing. I just wanted him or her to be healthy, I want them to be able to be themselves, and I want them to live a carefree life." He felt the throbbing pain from his headache increase within a second and he bowed his head in response as he pressed the balls of his palm against his forehead. His teeth gritted in aggravation.

"What's wrong, Daddy, are you okay?" the boy's small voice asked with concern.

He waited a moment to grow used to the pain before he looked over at the other. "I'm fine—at least I will be if I just take it easy." Just then, he felt something crawling down from his nose. There were napkins on the table and used it this to wipe away whatever it was. His suspicions were confirmed when he saw the fresh red smear on the rough white surface.

"Daddy?" the boy asked.

"Finish your sandwich and when you're done put your plate in the sink."

He stood up then, hearing the boy say other things, but ostensibly ignoring him as he made his way back down the hall to his room. He barely knew what time it was only that it was likely late and that he didn't feel up to doing much at all. In fact, he was having trouble keeping his balance as he walked. Once he made it to his bed, he fell into it unceremoniously as the insistent pain continued on with little regard. He was turned to his side and staring at the wall as he felt the full force of it unable to do much else.

"Are you gonna' be okay?" the boy asked.

Malachi felt as the small weight of the boy tilted the bed as he climbed onto it. The boy was awake and clearly energetic. There was no one to watch him as he'd rashly sent Tien away. He sighed and took out his cellphone. Then sat up in bed just as the boy was able to situate himself upon it. He unlocked the phone and told the other to move in closer so that he could quickly tell him the basics of using the device.

"There—now go play with that for a while and don't bother me."

"Okay," the boy said sadly.

His tone hadn't perturbed him in the slightest as he lied down on his back and closed his eyes. His eyebrows creased in irritation. He resisted the urge to toss and turn as he was immensely uncomfortable, but he knew it wouldn't do anything. All he could do was wait for it—whatever "it" was—to pass. He was hoping his condition would improve on its own as it always had in the past when he found himself in such situations. He didn't exactly like or trust doctors to begin with and his earliest impressions of them were not very flattering. They had dedicated their lives to helping others, but only if there was enough money to compensate them. Otherwise, they were content to watch those who needed them the most die in the streets. It was those memories watching other less fortunate people that spurned him on as far as charities went.

He woke up some time later feeling marginally better. The pain was less enough for him to at least be able to function. It was at a threshold that he could work with. When he sat up, he looked around for the boy and saw that he was nowhere to be found.

"Shit. Of course, he couldn't stay in one spot for long," he mumbled to himself.

He climbed out of bed and had to deal with the same dizziness from before. He quickly wiped a finger under his nose to make sure it was blood-free. Satisfied with the results, he set about looking for the boy around the house. He found Chiaotzu, but no one else. That was when he began to inwardly panic. He stepped outside and looked around and then went back inside to check again. There wasn't a name he could yell out for the kid and he was beginning to feel a bit discouraged. Against his better judgement, he contacted Tien—his phone being left on the nightstand strangely enough.

"Hello?" Tien asked in what Malachi was beginning to recognize as his pleasant tone.

"You wouldn't happen to have seen that kid anywhere, have you?" Malachi asked successfully hiding the growing panic from his voice.

"Yeah," Tien said immediately. "He's over here at Launch's."

"What? What is he doing there?" Malachi asked sharply.

"I came back to check on you, but you seemed completely out of it and the child seemed restless. I took him with me and we've been hanging out."

"Is that right?" Malachi said with a frown. "And you didn't bother to tell me."

"You were asleep at the time—I didn't think it would be a good idea to disturb you."

"Then you could have left me a text or a note or something so that I don't wake up to find him completely gone with nothing to tell me where he went."

"My apologies, I didn't think about that. I thought you'd be a bit more relieved."

"I'm not. Tell him that I'm coming to pick him up. I have someplace to take him."

"You do?" Tien asked with surprise. "It's getting a bit late. Maybe this could wait until—"

Malachi had already ended the call not wanting to hear anymore from him. Something about the kid not being near him made him anxious. All he was wearing was an oversized shirt—he had no change of clothes along with not having a name. He wasn't real and he could disappear in the blink of an eye. Maybe this entire thing was a figment of his imagination. He couldn't be sure.

The odd feeling had not left him. Something was wrong and he couldn't figure out exactly what. It was beginning to make him question things he hadn't before. Everything felt surreal. When he stepped outside, he had to wait for another bout of dizziness to subside. As he always did when he stepped outside these days, he glanced over at Lilith's place. Where there had been lights on in the past, it was completely dark. He watched it for a moment longer before stepping down from the porch. He made it to Launch's place in less than a minute and knocked on the door when he was close enough.

A brunette Launch opened the door with a bright smile. It irritated him instantly as he scowled at the woman.

"Hello," she said cheerfully, "Are you feeling any better?"

He ignored the question knowing that he didn't have a good answer. "Where is he?"

"Oh, you mean the little boy? It's been quite fun having him around—and he just says the darnest things."

"Yes, him," he said with little pretense.

"Would you like to come in?" she asked pleasantly.

She was obviously in a good mood and it was rubbing him the wrong way. In fact, they all must have been in a good mood just like one little happy family.

"I'd rather not," Malachi said. He would likely not behave himself if he did so.

He waited just outside the door with crossed arm. Launch disappeared to get Tien and soon he was face to face with him and the little boy. Malachi noticed immediately that the boy was dressed in something more appropriate than just a shirt. It was likely they had all gone out to buy him new clothes.

"Daddy!" the little boy shouted with joy as he quickly ran over and attached himself to his leg. The sweet lilac scent hit his nose soon after. Though it was a scent that he enjoyed, at the moment it did little to improve his mood.

"Are you really going out somewhere so late?" Tien asked with the same genuine concern from before.

"It's almost as if you want me to explain myself to you. I'll do as I see fit whether you like it or not." The other frowned a little at this. "Sometimes I wonder why I even humor you or live in your house as if I'm incapable of taking care of myself. Who exactly do you think you are to me?"

"Malachi, if there's something bothering you, you should just tell me."

He stood there for a moment watching the other. Tien stood unperturbed before him. He knew it would be difficult to get a rise out of such a man. At the same time, he wondered why he wanted to in the first place. Malachi looked down at the boy and proceeded to detaching him from his leg.

"Let's go, kid," he said simply as he turned completely from Tien and began to make his way to the street.

"Hey!" Tien said as he realized the other was completely ignoring him. "Where are you going?"

Malachi threw down the capsule that would release his top-down car. "If you want to follow me all night, be my guest," he said without bothering to turn to him. "Get in already, kid," he ordered the boy.

The boy did so obediently albeit cheerfully and jumped into the passenger seat in the front. He seemed blissfully ignorant to the darkening moods around him. Malachi jumped into the car too and turned on the car in the same breath. Soon he was driving down the street at a reasonable speed. He couldn't be sure if Tien was following him as it was night time and he couldn't really sense his ki signature.

"What are we gonna' do?" the kid asked.

"We're going to buy a ton of clothes for you."

"R-Really?" the kid asked surprised.

"Yep," Malachi answered back quickly, "You get to choose whatever you want."

"But…I don't know what to wear."

"Well don't worry, I'm really good at dressing people. It's a pastime of mine that annoys the shit out of Bra," he said with a subtle grin.

"Who's Bra?" his voice shouted over the wind.

Malachi had slowly increased in speed the longer he drove. "The love of my life," he said without giving it much thought—it wasn't as if the child would really understand.

"Is she my mom?" the kid asked.

Malachi laughed at this for almost a good minute before choking out a "no". "Your mother was a glorified incubator and you were an accident—a weird, alien mistake that I now have to deal with." All filters seemed to have vanished into thin air along with his already waning patience. He wondered how he had lasted even this long.

"I'm a…mistake?" the boy asked confused.

"An utter mistake. You were unplanned. And because of what you are, your birth destroyed the one who carried you for all those months," he stated unabashedly. "Normal children don't 'absorb' information by squeezing their red amorphous bodies into people's brains. Look at you, you're like—how old are you even?"

"Two days," the boy said steadily.

"If anyone asks, you're eight years old. That's what you look like anyway. Sometimes you sound like that. Sometimes you sound much older."

"Is my mother dead?" he asked.

"She is dead. I watched her die as she had you. But if it's any consolation, she seemed glad to have done it. I thought you were dead, but she didn't know that."

"That's why you were so surprised when I found you again."

"Well, more than that," Malachi said, "No one's exactly ready to deal with sentient red slimy blobs."

"I'm sorry," the boy said meekly.

"Don't apologize. Even someone like you, didn't ask to be born into this world. None of it is your fault really. But here we are."

"I know what I want my name to be," the boy said after a moment.

"Hm? So you've been thinking about that all this time? Let's hear it," Malachi said.

"Jensen," he said proudly.

Malachi repeated it in his head liking the sound of it. "I think that's a really good name," he said with genuine approval. "How'd you think of that one?"

"I heard you say it in your sleep earlier today before Tien took me with him."

"I see," he said thoughtfully.

"You don't believe me?" Jensen asked.

"I do," Malachi replied. "You're not the first person who says I do that. I guess they can't all be lying, right? Not that I can remember it at all."

"Do you know a Jensen?" he asked.

"Not at all, but it's a good sounding name. I would have thought of it eventually, I suppose. We're almost there."

Malachi was flying down the street now and nearly swerved into the parking lot of the department store he'd decided on going to. Though he spent money somewhat liberally, he didn't see the point of buying topline brands if he was likely to grow out of them soon. This was a higher end department store with good, fashionable clothes that he frequented or at least had others go and buy things for him.

The wind had ruffled his curly locks quite a bit and they were now wild and unkempt. He hadn't cut his hair in a while and its length was now a bit past his shoulders at this point—the longest it had been since he'd first gotten it cut all those years ago starting out in the music industry.

The store was bright and happy as they stepped in and probably quite a new environment for Jensen. One of the cashiers greeted them, but Malachi ignored them. Jensen, however, waved back enthusiastically. He took up a cart and headed towards the boy's sections with Jensen tagging along. It was the summer so there were an abundance of shorts and short-sleeved shirts.

"Let's figure out what size fits you best," Malachi said as he began looking around.

"Okay," Jensen replied readily.

Malachi found a very standard looking shirt and pants and placed three different sizes of each into the cart before taking him to the fitting room and telling the other to try it on. Clearly Jensen was a bit confused about what to do when he came out the first time with the shirt over the one he had on. After that, Malachi simply went in with him and then changed him himself.

"Medium for the shirts, 8S for the pants," Malachi said almost to himself after he put the second shirt on him, "Just like I thought."

Knowing the general sizes, Malachi now began carefully parsing through the entire section asking if the other liked something or not. Jensen generally didn't have an opinion. On one hand it made things a little easier, but on the other it was a bit disheartening to know that the other had no sense of style whatsoever. Hopefully that would change. He avoided dark colors. Though it wasn't something he did for himself, a child shouldn't be dressed in such dreary colors. He chose some shirts with cute designs on them—he couldn't resist getting the one with records and a headphone set displayed. Perhaps he was projecting, but it wasn't as if the boy would know or care. He liked the shirt that said "Fresh" on it in an interesting font and another that said "Crazy Cool Dude". He got a few dressier striped collared shirts that were short sleeved with tasteful coloring. He also picked out a few jean shorts along with some colorful ones.

Malachi had the other try on all of them and he seemed to enjoy them equally. In fact, Malachi wondered if there was anything that would make him upset. After gathering a wardrobe's worth of clothing, Malachi started heading towards the checkout.

"Ahhh, we're not gonna' look at the _whole_ store?" Jensen asked in his annoying whining voice.

"There's no need. We got what we came for," Malachi said.

"But what about all the colorful stuff over there?" the boy asked pointing on the other side of the store.

"That's the girl section."

"But it looks really pretty."

Malachi sighed exasperatedly. "You want to see what girls wear?" he asked humoring the child.

Jensen nodded at him with a smile and Malachi was no longer sure the boy was fully understanding what he was saying.

"Fine," Malachi said, "Better to be knowledgeable than ignorant. Come on, kid."

The cart was already quite full as they made their way to the other side. His eyes lit up like they'd just entered the candy store. Admittedly, the girl's section had far more variety. Jensen seemed taken with all the dresses on display along with the skirts and other clothing items that went along with it. There was a shimmery blue dress that he kept returning to—clearly, he liked this one the most.

"Can I try it on, Daddy?" he asked.

"You want to try on a dress?" Malachi asked, clarifying the other's question.

Jensen only nodded with more enthusiasm. Malachi looked at the other a moment longer with a raised eyebrow before giving in. He seemed deadset on it.

"Alright, well, let's figure out your size first. Probably medium or large," he said looking through the sizes.

He grabbed a couple of the same dress and then sent him off to the fitting room. After a moment, he joined him in the room when he realized the other was struggling to put it on.

"It's just like a shirt—or at least this one is," Malachi explained as he pulled it over his head. "Turn around," he said quickly. From there he zipped up the back part.

Jensen twirled around in excitement despite not being told what to do. The bottom flared out into the air back and forth.

"Do you like it?" Jensen asked as he continued to twirl.

"I should be asking you that question," Malachi said. "What say you?" he asked with a grin.

"I love it—I like that it moves and it has really pretty colors."

"You know that's the most I've gotten out of you all day about clothes? You sure you picked the right gender?"

"I'm sure," he said with startling certainty. "I like the way I look."

"Is that right? This coming from the kid who needed intimate approval from me to decide on what he should look like."

"I had no idea what my appearance should be. When I found you, you were afraid of me and I didn't like that."

"I wasn't _afraid_ of you," Malachi said before the other could continue. "You caught me at a really bad time. I thought—look, that's old news."

"I saw fear in your eyes," Jensen continued. "I knew something was wrong. I knew I was wrong from the very beginning. There was so much I couldn't understand and that was the only solution I could find. I'm sorry for…intruding like that. But it felt like the only thing I could do."

"That we're even having this kind of conversation right now," Malachi said shaking his head slowly. "What's done is done."

"Yes, and I like what I've become. And I really like this dress."

"I can see that," Malachi said with a sigh as he sat back on the meager seat in the fitting room. "Jensen—what you were before, who's to say if it was wrong or right. I just don't know."

"I want to please you— _that's_ what feels right."

Malachi ran his hands down his face. "Yeah, well, we'll see how long that lasts. If you want my honest opinion, that dress is a bit too loud and does nothing for your shape." Jensen looked at the other with a skeptical expression. "I saw some others that might fit you better—try them on for yourself."

"You're gonna help me find a good dress?" Jensen asked with a smile

"Hm, of course. If you're going to cross-dress, might as well do it right."

The two left the fitting room to traverse the girl's section once again. Malachi suggested which ones he liked best and Jensen tried them on before deciding which ones to keep. In the end, they picked up five different dresses and several skirts and dress shirts. Jensen liked floral themes the best so Malachi took that into consideration when he made suggestions.

Another section caught Jensen's eyes and he dragged Malachi over to it: cosmetics. Malachi could tell that the other was quite overwhelmed when he walked into the first aisle much to his amusement.

"What is all this for?" Jensen asked.

"For hiding your flaws and making you look even better than you already are. With enough skill, you can make yourself look like whatever you want to be."

"And…you can teach me?"

"I'm no makeup artist, but I can teach you the basics. Let's start simple. A kid shouldn't be worried so much about this stuff, but it's good to start somewhere I guess."

The two of them spent another hour there looking through everything deciding on what to buy. They wound up not getting much, but Jensen tried on a multitude of makeup that night. Were it not for the intercom informing them that the store was closing, they might have stayed longer.

Exhausted, Malachi was glad they could finally check out. He wasn't entirely sure why he had been so determined to do any of this so late in the day. Shouldn't children Jensen's age be asleep by this hour? Maybe he should have been resting as well. His headache from before had not entirely left him and it was once again starting to intensify. They were the last one's there and they had a ridiculous number of items to scan through. The cashier was not at all enthused about the prospects and Malachi was in no mood to make small talk with the young lady. Jensen was forever messing around with the candy on display near them and Malachi simply ignored his pleas to try one of them.

"I'll be glad when this day is over," the cashier said as she scanned shirt after shirt.

Malachi looked at her and gave her a nod.

"What's wrong cat's got your tongue," she said jokingly.

"No, I just don't feel like wasting my breath on you."

"Well," she said taken aback, "Someone's in a bad mood."

"You have no idea," Malachi said, "But you seem to go a bit slower when you're talking. How about you concentrate on your job?"

The woman laughed sardonically. "I suppose I will, hotshot."

Malachi stood silently with his arms crossed watching as each piece went by. The woman spoke again, but he didn't respond to her. He looked out the wide windows of the storefront for the remainder of the time only turning when Jensen begged him for another candy. Feeling the headache edging further and further into a territory that he couldn't handle, he began tapping his feet with impatience. When the woman was finally done, he quickly scanned his card, signed his name, and took a hold of the cart.

"Have a good evening, sir," the woman said cheerfully despite herself

Malachi only gave her a dismissive wave as he walked out to the front of the establishment. He took out a capsule and used it store all the contents of the cart in it. Then he made a beeline for the car.

"How come I couldn't get any candy?" Jensen whined.

"Because it's too late for that stuff. You're going straight to bed after this."

"But I've never had candy before," he continued.

"Will you stop?" Malachi barked at the child causing the other to flinch. "Just stop talking, alright? Don't say another word to me for the rest of the night."

"Nothing else," Jensen asked, "Are you sure?"

"Oh, I'm _very_ sure," Malachi said without skipping a beat.

He started the car and began making his way out of the parking lot. They met a traffic light immediately before reaching the street much to Malachi's further annoyance. For a moment, he let his throbbing head lean against the steering wheel. He decided at this moment that driving so late in his condition was not one of his smartest ideas. He simply couldn't stay at home. He'd wanted so desperately to put some distance between him and Tien. For the life of him, he couldn't figure out why. Logically, it made no sense, but at the time it had made perfect sense.

"Daddy, are you okay?"

"What did I say, Jensen?" he said as calmly as he could.

This seemed to shut the boy up quickly.

"It's green," Jensen pointed out.

Malachi looked up and then shot off down the street. It was as if he was racing against time or maybe he just wanted to go fast, he couldn't be sure. He could barely decipher what road he was on as he swerved around cars and sometimes even on the wrong side of the street. It was exhilarating, but if anyone were to ask him why he was doing such things, he wouldn't have a good answer for it. Jensen seemed to be having fun nonetheless, shouting and putting his hands up as if he were on a rollercoaster.

They made it home eventually, but it had somehow taken them longer to get there than it had been to get to the department store. Malachi jumped out of the car along with Jensen and encapsulated it. He used his key to open the door to a dark house. There was no telling where Tien was, but Malachi wasn't too keen on finding his whereabouts. With his luck, he was still at Launch's place.

"Daddy, can I see the clothes again?" he asked.

Malachi took the capsule with all the items from the store and gave it to him. "Here, take it. We'll deal with that tomorrow, okay? I'm tired. Go sleep on that couch over there."

"But I wanna' sleep with you," Jensen whined.

"Damn it, kid, I hate it when you squeak like that—it's like nails clawing at a chalkboard. Don't question me just go sleep on the couch. It's not the end of the world and it's pretty comfortable."

But—"

"No buts," Malachi snapped at the child before leaving him completely on his own and going to his room.

There were a few rituals he decided he would skip that night namely putting on nightclothes. It was then that he realized he'd forgotten to buy these types of clothes for Jensen. "Damn it," he grumbled under his breath.

But he didn't have much time to think about this before the insidious pain increased tenfold causing him to stop in his tracks. Both of his hands now held up his head and he felt everything spinning around him. He found standing to be too much as he slowly sank to his knees. He bent over until his head was touching the ground. There was nothing he could do really to help things in the least. He'd never felt anything like it. The pain was well over any threshold he thought he had and he cried out despite himself. He didn't want them to worry. He didn't want anyone to worry about him. He just wanted it to go away. It simply would not. Stubbornly, it stayed with him and he could barely decipher what was happening or how his body was reacting.

He was clawing at the ground and he might have still been crying out, but he couldn't be sure. It seemed to go on for a long time before he felt himself being picked up easily. Who was picking him up? He had no idea and he lashed out thoughtlessly.

"Calm down, Malachi, it's only me," came Tien's steady voice.

"T-Tien?" Malachi managed to say. He felt his speech slipping away from him

"Yes," he answered evenly. "What's wrong? Just tell me what's wrong."

"M-My head…" Malachi struggled to say as his mouth became more and more difficult to move. "Feels like it's about to explode. Am I…Am I…" He couldn't finish it, but his mind shouted out in despair: _Am I dying?_

He felt himself writhing about the bed unable to stop himself. He could barely put together a coherent thought and he certainly could no longer comprehend the magnitude of the pain he was feeling. He heard Tien's voice, but he couldn't figure out what he was saying. He thought he heard Jensen's tiny voice as well. Then he thought he'd completely lost it when he heard a voice he hadn't heard in a while. Had some time passed in between—Malachi couldn't tell, but he was almost certain he heard Vegeta's voice. He tried desperately to zero in on it.

"This might hurt, but no more than what you're already feeling."

Something sharp went into his neck. In fact, many sharp somethings inserted itself into his neck at the same time. Nausea swept over him, but it was overshadowed by the extremeness of the pain that swallowed him whole. Soon he blacked out when he could no longer physically handle whatever it was that was happening to him. He wondered right before he passed out if this was the end.

* * *

 **AN** : I'm not sure if anyone was ready for that. But here we are. Anyways get ready for a POV shift next chapter.

 **WildHeart44** : Ahh, no Lilith love? Lol. The Kanye shrug was a nice touch.

 **SierraLarson** : I surprised you? Good. But you weren't too far off anyhow. Yeah, Lilith was never going to stick around for long.

 **WineIXI** : I'm so hurt. Disliking Malachi. Just kidding, I'm a big girl and he hasn't really been on his best behavior. And I kinda have a knack for writing not so nice characters…*coughcough*Vegeta. But thanks for sticking around!


	33. Now or Never

**Vegeta had just settled in for the night wondering if his wife might join him when he heard her come scrambling into the room as if the house was on fire.** Anything that could make her that worked up must have been serious indeed—then again, it might have been something as mundane as a broken fingernail.

"Vegeta, I need you to get to Malachi quickly," Bulma said as she turned on the lights to the room.

His eyes squinted at the sudden change of light as he climbed out of bed. "What for—What are you going on about, woman?" he grumbled though he was only slightly irritated by her intrusion.

She stood just as beautiful and confident as ever in her unbuttoned lab coat over her T-shirt and sweatpants. Vegeta believed she was at her very finest when she was upset or yelling at him and it didn't take much to get her into that kind of mood; a snide remark here, feigned ignorance there. It almost brought a grin to his face.

"Tien just called me and Malachi isn't doing so well. The thing I feared most is happening."

" _What_ is happening," Vegeta asked impatiently wanting her to be more specific and to get to the point so that he could actually _do_ something about the problem.

"No time to explain. You have to go to Malachi and administer the injection."

"The thing you've been working on for months now?" Vegeta asked.

She held it already in her hands. It looked more like a small gun than a syringe. "I've had this finished for a while, but I had to run numerous tests to make sure it does what I want it to do and not end up killing him as well. There's really no precedence on the thing we're about to do. Even now, I'm not sure if he would survive something so drastic, but it's either now or never. I don't think his body can tolerate the creature's presence for much longer without some dire consequences." Bulma handed him the injection device—it felt heavier than he thought it would be. "It has to go directly into the neck at a certain spot on the side," she said touching her own neck. "Don't worry, it will let you know when you've gotten the correct spot—it's dummy proof. I'll be coming too later, but I need to get some stuff packed. Now, go."

Vegeta knew better than to question her further at the moment. She was already out the door probably running to get back to her lab and gather whatever equipment she needed. He, on the other hand, threw on some proper clothes and headed out into the sky traveling almost at the speed of light. Clearly, it was a matter of life and death. He even turned Super Saiyan with a brief spurt of his energy and travelled faster still to get there.

He assumed Malachi to be at Tien's place as usual and this turned out to still be the case. He'd never visited the place until now. Nothing had ever caused him to do such a thing. As far as he knew from what he'd gathered from the times he called Tien every once in a while, Malachi was doing fine and, of course, excelling at the dojo. There were three levels of classes and Malachi was apparently well on his way to reaching the advanced classes all in the span of a year. Impressive for human standards.

Vegeta heard his cries of pain before he even stepped through the door and he knew it was Malachi. It was as if he was in the midst of an especially terrifying torture session. The door was open as Vegeta easily strolled through the front door and headed towards all the noise.

There he was, writhing uncontrollably on the bed—it was a pitiful sight. Seeing him so weak and vulnerable was disheartening. He understood now, Bulma's insistence that he get there as fast as possible. Tien was there trying to calm him with words and strangely enough there was a small boy he'd not seen before crying and watching piteously. They both looked up when he stepped in.

"Vegeta, I'm glad you could make it so quickly," Tien said gratefully.

"I need you to hold him down," Vegeta ordered Tien who obliged without question.

Tien practically had to leap on top of the man to hold down his arms and legs. Vegeta easily held down his head with a strong hand. He uncapped the gun-like injector with his teeth and moved the tip of the gun slowly over the side of his neck hovering just above the skin until it made a tiny beeping noise. Holding the solid device in his hands, he knew there must have been a lot of substance within, far more than he'd ever seen administered at one time so quickly. Vegeta wasn't sure the other could hear him, but he was certainly still conscious as he breathed erratically into his palm.

"This might hurt, but no more than what you're already feeling," Vegeta said despite himself. He pulled the trigger and felt it go off several times as the contents pumped steadily into his neck.

His teeth might have torn off his palms had he been a weaker man as Vegeta felt his gnashing teeth. The pain must have intensified to an astonishing level as Malachi seemed to fight against them with more fervor. Then all at once after a few moments, his movements ceased—he'd fainted. Cautiously, Vegeta stepped away from him and Tien climbed off the bed.

"What did you do?" the small boy shouted.

Vegeta had forgotten that the boy was even there; it was likely because he had no idea who he was. In response, he looked at Tien questioningly.

"It's a long story," Tien said.

"You're ignoring me," the boy said in frustration.

Vegeta looked down towards the child. He wore sensible clothes. His appearance reminded him distinctively of Malachi, but a much younger version. Was he some child from an ill-fated relationship long ago? "What's your name, boy?"

"Jensen," he said defiantly, "Did you hurt him? Because if you did, you won't get away with it!"

"I'll get away with whatever I please," Vegeta said edging the other on. He couldn't help himself as he noticed how agitated he was becoming.

Jensen shot towards the other angrily much to Vegeta's amusement. The boy had no skill whatsoever, but he struck passionately and Vegeta was impressed by the force behind his punches. He swung widely and in a way that made Vegeta certain that he'd never done anything like it before. Tiring of his barrage of punches, Vegeta backhanded the other using only a modicum of strength and Jensen was thrown to the ground unceremoniously.

"What did you do to him!" Jensen shouted defiantly as he climbed back to his feet.

"He's not dead," Vegeta finally said. "If anything, I might have saved his life."

"Y-You did?" Jensen said dumbly and obviously caught off guard.

With this, Vegeta turned and made his way out of the room. He'd done the thing Bulma had wanted and it was clear the boy had a strong connection with Malachi. He would give him his space for now. Bulma would be there soon in another two hours perhaps so he opted to wait in the living room. Silently, he leaned against the back of the long couch with arms crossed and eyes closed.

"He's Malachi's son," Tien said as he stepped into the living room.

"A striking resemblance to him. Anyone could have guessed," Vegeta said looking over at the other. "Was he supposed to be some big secret?"

"You haven't heard of him because, well, he sort of came into existence just today."

Vegeta looked at him longer waiting for the other to expound. "Is that all you have to say?"

"Well, that's all he told me, really. I don't know if you know about Lilith. She—

"Yes, I know," Vegeta said dismissively. "What does she have to do with this?"

"She was having issues with the pregnancy and she died of complications."

"This is the first I've heard of that," Vegeta said with a raised eyebrow. He knew he wouldn't be the first person Malachi would call about that sort of thing, but Bulma would eventually tell him after Bra disclosed it to her.

"He didn't seem all that torn up about it, but who knows what really goes on in that head of his. He keeps most things to himself unless it would be advantageous to do otherwise. Anyways, the child she was carrying was assumed dead, but as you can see that wasn't the case. I don't really know the specifics and Malachi hasn't explicitly told me that that's his son, but we can be sure that the boy is somehow related to him."

 _Somehow_ Vegeta thought to himself. Whatever was the case, there was nothing he could do for it now and it wasn't his issue to deal with. Then again, he was sure this was going to affect Bra in some way. Who knew how she'd react? He didn't want to think too long about that. If it wasn't one thing, it was another with those two—Malachi and Bra.

"So, how have you been as of late?" Tien asked the other.

It was a question that most people didn't bother asking him. Usually, he'd answer snidely and that's if he didn't simply ignore them. That was still the case sometimes, but every once in a while, when he actually had something on his mind, he wound up giving a thoughtful answer.

Vegeta looked over at the other. "Can you believe my son desperately needed my help deciding who to hire for the company? He claimed I didn't need to know exactly what they were being hired for but simply my approval of whether I liked them or not. So I sat through dozens of boring interviews and each time he'd want my opinion. I just chalked it up to that weird 'father's approval' thing that Trunks apparently needs to validate himself. Bra was never like that."

"It doesn't sound so odd," Tien said. "He probably believes you're a good judge of character. There's lots of people out there with good qualifications for jobs that it's usually not the issue whether someone is capable or not, but whether that person can be trusted. _That's_ harder to pinpoint and certainly can't be found from reading a résumé."

"I suppose," said Vegeta, but he remained unconvinced. He only hoped his endeavors hadn't wound up making it even worse for Trunks.

"You were the one who didn't give up on Malachi. For whatever reason, you trusted him."

"Had you not shown any interest, I'd have no idea what to do with him."

"It was for selfish reasons—I was more impressed by his combat prowess than anything else. I didn't know him at all. I'd never met him. I wanted a student who could one day surpass me," Tien admitted.

"You both benefited from it which is far better than what I thought the outcome might be. I remember being in that position before," Vegeta said crossing his arms. "It would be easier to be killed than be allowed to live. Krillin would have dealt the finishing blow had Kakarot not stopped him. I had no idea why he would do such a thing. Even as he believed in me, I was planning on showing him no mercy when next we met on the battlefield. I was grateful to have survived that ordeal, but it was overshadowed by my embarrassment for ever being in that kind of position. I hated him for it. I didn't need someone to believe in me. I needed no validation from anyone. I would take what I wanted. If I lived, it was because I fought for it. But in that moment, my life was in his hands.

"I've often wondered why he decided to let me live, perhaps too often. I was giving him too much credit. Kakarot wasn't seeing someone who could one day align themselves with him. Nothing I did thus far would make even the most forgiving person begin to think that way. No, he saw someone who could give him a good fight—another Saiyan that was at his level. And that's the way he always thinks. Kakarot is a terrible judge of character. He's allowed so many people to live for that same reason only to put everyone's lives at risk in the future. Yet somehow that worked. _That_ is what everyone looks up to; an idiot who has no idea how to weigh the pros from the cons or decide what would benefit the most people.

"Kakarot's philosophy whether he realizes he has one or not is simply that he avoids killing his opponent at all costs unless that person brings it on themselves. That is all. There is no room for gray area. No matter what atrocity that person has done, he will never bring himself to deliberately taking someone's life. I tried to adopt the same ideals, but I simply cannot. All I see is gray area and exceptions to the rule. I survived for so long because I trusted only in those that had proven themselves to be trustworthy. If I'm ever lenient with someone, it's because I believe that person could benefit from that. Malachi fulfilled those things for me. Were it not the case, I would have destroyed him outright whether you wanted to train him or not." Vegeta stopped when he realized he'd been speaking for a while and had likely buried the point somewhere in there.

"I agree," Tien said a moment later. "But I'm no good at making judgement calls. I once trusted a man who would have me kill others in cold blood and who regularly went about things in an underhanded way. One day he told me to kill Goku and I refused. That was the moment I started to think for myself. I didn't know what my philosophy would be, but I knew it didn't involve the killing of those who didn't deserve it. Chiaotzu has never betrayed so I always keep him close at hand, but other than that I try to keep to myself knowing that I might run the risk of once again trusting in someone like my former master.

"Though I'm glad to hear that you trust him—Malachi. There are certain things that he does that makes me a bit dubious."

"Clearly his mind being affected by whatever has possessed him," Vegeta said, "It has been over a year. I'm surprised he's lasted this long. Living for so long like that probably not able to trust his own thoughts, must have been a trial in itself. Seeing as you're still alive and he's not outright tried to attack anyone; things have gone better than I expected."

"Wait, what are you saying?" Tien asked with furrowed eyebrows.

"That you're still really bad at judging character, but, in this case, a fool is exactly what was needed. I trust Malachi, not the guy you've been harboring for the past year," Vegeta said with a grin.

Tien was confused for a second, but then frowned a moment later. "Glad to be of service then."

"By the way," Vegeta said glancing behind himself at the living room. "Do you really not have a television?"

Tien looked on exasperatedly. "I get that a lot, but there are better things to do."

"Like what? Staring at the walls?" Vegeta asked.

"Training," Tien said singularly.

"Hmph, do you feel like sparring? I'll go easy on you."

"It would be my honor," Tien said without even the slightest hint of hesitation.

Vegeta knew it would take some time for Bulma to arrive so he had a lot of time to kill. With the strange boy preoccupied with Malachi and Malachi himself unconscious, there wasn't much else to do. Otherwise, he would not bother sparring with a weakling like Tien. Vegeta wondered if Malachi was benefiting from this man's training. He'd told Malachi that training him had been something of a mistake since he was human. He'd pushed him as much as he could, but Vegeta was always worried that he might accidently cause the other irreparable damage. He was the one who had suggested signing up for the tournament and had almost gotten him killed because of it. No matter how tenacious Malachi was, he needed someone more his speed. Allowing Tien to fulfill that role was a sensible alternative.

Why then did he feel like he'd done the wrong thing in that regard? Why did he feel as if he'd lost something valuable? Could a mere human rise to the occasion and surpass him one day? Malachi had made him believe that even without having any proof that that was ever going to be the case. The knowledge that he wanted to and that he was always moving towards that end had felt almost exhilarating. Now, however, he was back to how it had been before: bored. He'd seen Malachi not too long ago and he was not the picture of strength and skill he'd been before. He was too far gone to even move and if he ever awoke, he'd most certainly be weaker. All these things went through his mind as he easily pummeled Tien over and over again. Tien had improved greatly over the years, but he still couldn't hold a candle to his might once he got serious. He doubted Malachi could last much longer against him.

* * *

 **Vegeta wanted to be somewhere near whenever Bulma decided to be in close proximity to Malachi.** She had come later the other night to check in on him. He noted a sturdy, metallic bucket that with a secure lid that she placed under Malachi's bed. She'd taken his vitals and told them what they already knew—all they could do was wait. He seemed feverous so Bulma was forever placing and replacing cold rags over his forehead. At the very least, he didn't seem to be uncomfortable. He breathed normally and had not moved since he'd fainted. The boy remained in the room at all times, refusing to talk much to anyone. Had Bulma not brought in food to him, he might have gone on without it.

On the second day, Malachi was no longer overheating, but shivering. He was pallid and still nonresponsive. Bulma had also concocted a story for Bra that they had decided on taking an impromptu stay at a resort to account for the time spent away from the house. They themselves didn't stay at Tien's place as he didn't exactly have enough room for them. It was a three-bedroom rancher. Instead, they stayed at a nearby hotel, but they were there almost all the time at Tien's place. Bulma constantly monitored Malachi and Vegeta was always there keeping a watchful eye. They were far into unknown territory at this point. Anything could happen.

Finally, on the third day, Malachi opened his eyes. They hadn't been there when it happened, but Tien had called them immediately once he discovered it. Tien had described him as disoriented for a while, but otherwise himself. It wasn't too much longer after this that they arrived and Bulma intended to do a thorough examination of him. Before they even stepped in, they could hear voices—it was Malachi and the little boy.

"You actually attacked him?" Malachi said with a short laugh. "I'm surprised you're still standing."

"But he was being mean!" the boy declared.

"That's his shtick. You'll get used to it. Sooner or later. Sooner rather than later. Next time you see him—why don't you try being on your _good_ behavior for a change?"

It was then that he and Bulma stepped in and Malachi quickly took them in as he looked up. "Just the two I was waiting for—Tien says you've been here the whole time."

"You should thank Vegeta—he was the one who got here fast enough to administer the solution," Bulma said as she stepped closer to the bed.

Vegeta remained on the opposite wall in which he had a clear view of Malachi.

"Well, thank you. I wasn't sure if I'd heard your voice or not. That was…quite painful."

"Save it," Vegeta said. "Bulma still needs to see if it worked out as she planned." He refused to be even a little relieved until he could be sure. And there were other questions he had as well especially about the creature itself.

"I need you to stay still as I run a scan on you. No talking," Bulma said as calmly as possible as she took out her small scanner and began moving it over him slowly." Malachi was practically holding his breath as the procedure was being done. "Alright," she said after a while when she was done with his toes, "It's done."

Malachi released the breath he'd been holding. "Did you find anything out of the ordinary?"

"Hold on," Bulma said as she now looked on her phone. "I'll be the one asking _you_ questions for the time being." Malachi nodded at her without fuss. "How are you feeling? I want you to answer me sincerely—no tough guy stuff—it's very important."

Vegeta did not envy the other, being placed into a situation in which he needed to be upfront about how he was feeling physically. That was usually information that he kept to himself.

"I know," Malachi said looking away from her. "I've felt odd ever since I woke up not too long ago—the same kind of odd feeling I had right before…all this happened. The whole day actually. But I couldn't pinpoint what it is; I still can't. And…" Malachi paused as he closed his eyes slowly, "I feel rather nauseous."

"How nauseous? On a scale of 1 to 10 with 10 being the worst."

"I would say a solid 10. In fact, I think—"

The other had attempted to climb out of bed, but Bulma had placed a staying hand on his shoulders. "You're not going anywhere." She pulled the tightly lidded bucket from under his bed before he could protest further.

He was looking at her confusedly now. "What do you want me to do with that?" he asked.

"Isn't it obvious?" Bulma said. "It's filled partially with highly salinated water." She opened the top then to present the contents. "I created it specially in my lab."

"You want me to vomit into that bucket? Because you think…"

Bulma nodded. "Yes. The creature doesn't just vanish into thin air, it must be expelled."

"Ugh, just thinking about it…" He placed a clenched hand in front of his mouth.

"Use this bucket," Bulma ordered.

"Geez, you guys are just going to be watching?"

"I need to be here to monitor you and Vegeta is here just in case anything bad happens. For someone who's on the verge of, well, you know, you don't look like it."

"Don't let my calm exterior fool you," Malachi said. He turned to the quiet Jensen. "Could you go stand outside?"

The boy shook his head defiantly. "No."

"Just do it. I don't…I really don't…"

Vegeta noticed the other faltering as he doubled over in pain, likely abdominal. It probably wouldn't be wise to prolong this. He took it upon himself to take Jensen's hand and drag him outside of the room. "Stay there until I say otherwise."

Jensen looked up at him challengingly, but said nothing more to him. Vegeta returned moments before it happened.

"Alright, damn it, just give me the bucket. You're lucky I'm not an overly shy kind of person."

Bulma placed it very close to him on the bed. The lid was open waiting to fulfill its purpose. He was retching at first, nothing was coming out and then all of a sudden there was quite a bit of contents erupting from him. Vegeta couldn't see, not that he was actively trying to, but he did hear it making contact with the water already in the bucket. Usually, Bulma couldn't stand to be witnessing such a thing, but she was in full scientist mode now and watched with a clinical eye. Vegeta simply wanted it to be over, but Malachi carried on for longer than expected; dry heaving between bouts of the real thing.

It ended abruptly when Malachi pulled back from the bucket clearly spent from the endeavor. Bulma secured the lid immediately—it was the quickest Vegeta had ever seen her move before. The metal container trembled under Bulma's hand and there was a great amount of sloshing about. Something was moving inside of it. Malachi was looking at it wide eyed as if he'd just seen a ghost. Without being told, Vegeta took the now heavy container off the bed.

"I still need it to analyze," Bulma said to him.

Vegeta had briefly considered disintegrating it, but paused when she said this. "Why? We shouldn't let it linger."

"Because there are just too many unknowns. I don't know how this will affect Malachi in the long run and if something goes wrong, I'll have nothing to work with," Bulma argued.

"Just destroy it," Malachi said still catching his breath from his previous activity, his eyes hadn't left the container as he continued to gaze at it. "I can…hear it speaking…" he said shaking his head. "I don't care what happens to me—it needs to die _now_ while we still have the chance."

"Malachi—" Bulma began to protest, but she stopped when he lifted his hand up already conjuring a power blast. Despite his weakened state, Vegeta noted the other gathering an impressive amount of ki in a short amount of time. That was when Bulma moved directly in front of Malachi's line of fire defiantly with arms spread out. "You _can't_! I didn't come this far just to have you die from some silly complication somewhere down the line! That container is made of the strongest material that can be found on Earth—nothing can get out of it."

"You don't understand!" Malachi shouted with surprising energy. "If we don't get rid of it now—

"

He stopped midsentence when Vegeta took it upon himself to destroy the container with one fell swoop. He formed a tiny, but powerful blast on his index finger and sent it flying forth at light speed. The force from the blast caused quite a bit of other items about the room to be damaged as well, but the deed was done.

The ensuing silence was almost chilling. Malachi had powered down his own ki and Bulma had ceased her efforts of trying to stop him. She was the first who spoke and she was furious.

"What the _hell_ Vegeta!" Bulma cried out as she stomped towards him. "All my work down the drain! I don't want to hear _anything_ from you if he drops dead one day. Everyone will look to me and ask 'hey, Bulma, got any magical cures?' and I'll just say 'You're shit out of luck because I'm not made out of dragon balls.'"

"Vegeta," Malachi said causing the other to look his way, "Thank you. Whether something happens to me or not it is finally gone."

Bulma turned her angry gaze to Malachi now. "First of all, I'm not entirely certain if the threat is over; I still haven't examined you. And you seem to have forgotten that you're a father now. You're casually sitting there risking death as if you won't be leaving people behind. What about Machi? What about that kid you have around here? What about Bra? Do you even care about her anymore? Do you actually want to be in their lives or is that just you going through the motions again?"

"I do, but…" Malachi clenched up one of his hands then, "I don't want to be responsible for more people getting hurt and certainly not because of my selfish desires. I lived with that thing for too long and I was always haunted by the thought of that thing being let loose on the world. If I didn't do everything in my power to stop that from happening, I wouldn't be able to live with myself. And the two of you are the most genuinely kind people I've ever actually made friends with—my children would be in good hands were it to come to that. And, Bra, she would soon move on and she'd become an even stronger person because of it—that's the kind of woman she is. I sit here 'casually' risking death because for the first time I feel like I've fulfilled everything I've ever wanted out of life."

Bulma was made speechless for a moment and Vegeta as well was caught off guard. Quite an eloquent speech from someone who'd just come out of a two-day coma. He could tell that these were things that had already been on his mind and not something he'd just made up. Despite his strength of words, however, he did not look very well. His appearance had not improved in the slightest since ejecting the troublesome parasite. In fact, it might have worsened. His hair was wiry from sweat and his skin seemed almost completely lacking in healthy coloring. Though he was capable of speaking, Vegeta at times detected some warble to his voice indicating his exhaustion.

"Malachi, I'll do everything I can to make sure it _doesn't_ come to that," Bulma said.

It was seeming difficult for the other to hold himself up as his head dipped every so often. His hand would occasionally run quickly through his hair as if trying to disguise this fact.

"Sit still. I need to run another scan over you," Bulma said in calmer tones.

She moved over to him and took out the small device once again. This time, it seemed a bit easier for Malachi to still himself. It was as if they were all holding their breaths as this was being done. Vegeta tried to appear unaffected by the anxious mood of the other two, but he was likely failing on that front as he watched them intently. When she was done, Bulma had to look at the results on the phone.

"Sorry, guys, this will take me a few," she said a loud.

With an impatient sigh, Vegeta went back to leaning against the wall. The other's exhaustion became obvious to him when he noticed him struggling to keep his eyes open. Eventually, he fell back on the bed quickly slipping into a resting state. His already languid energy became near nonexistent—it was a surprising drop and Vegeta wondered if that was normal.

"Oh, no you don't," Bulma said when she looked up to see what Malachi was doing. "You can't sleep until you've eaten something."

Malachi groaned at this without opening his eyes. "Well, are you almost done? I don't know how much more longer—"

"Almost done," Bulma interrupted him.

So they waited for a few minutes more as Malachi slipped further into sleep. He was likely too tired to stop himself from doing it and Vegeta didn't think it necessary to interrupt him.

"This doesn't look good," Bulma finally said drawing Vegeta's attention immediately.

"What do you mean?" Vegeta asked.

"It hasn't been fully eradicated. There's still some traces of the foreign DNA left in his body."

"And is there some way to get rid of that?" Vegeta asked.

"Probably. If we repeated the same procedure. But, look at him," Bulma said gesturing at his resting form. He seemed utterly spent. "I don't think he'd be able to survive another treatment like this."

"If that's what it takes," Malachi said startling Bulma as he sat up again.

"There you go again," Bulma said, "Taking life-threatening risks."

"Sometimes their unavoidable. Staying the way I am now, I have no doubt that I'd be right back where I started in no time."

"How do you feel now? Do you still 'feel' it's presence."

Malachi nodded slowly. "I thought it was just me hallucinating, hearing it's voice there when it wasn't, but just then a few moments before, I heard it as clear as day. Threatening to…" Malachi shook his head. "We need to do this quickly or else I fear what might happen."

"What did he say?" Vegeta asked.

"He threatened to bend each and every denizen of this planet to his will by inserting a bit of itself into them except for a chosen few. Those he would entertain himself by thinking up the most creative, most painful ways in disposing of them."

Bulma looked pensively at her cellphone screen, something was on her mind. "Maybe we don't have to go through all of that again. It seems your body is still trying to fight off what's left of the foreign entity—that would explain some of these numbers. Vegeta, could you go grab a cup of water for Malachi—he's dehydrated at this point."

Vegeta without protest obliged. The sooner he got the cup, the less time Bulma would be by herself unprotected. He knew Jensen to be waiting just outside the door likely with ear pressed against the door. He pushed the door open hard enough to make the other tumble back into the opposite wall much to his amusement. He closed the door quickly as he watched the child climb back to his feet.

"Oops, didn't see you there," Vegeta taunted the other.

Jensen rubbed his nose with a chiefly frown. "Yeah, right. So how's he doing? I heard an explosion."

Vegeta shrugged and then made his way down the hall to obtain the cup and fill it up at the faucet. All the while Jensen followed closely behind him.

"Is he going to die?" Jensen continued as Vegeta rummaged through the cabinet searching for a cup.

"He's not going to die," Vegeta said exasperatedly. "I have a question for you, kid," he said as he was now filling up the cup, "Is that your father in there?—Malachi?"

"Yes," the kid said without skipping a beat.

"And how old are you?"

"Um…Dad said to say I'm 8 if anyone asked."

"I'm sure he wanted you do that with a bit more finesse," Vegeta said shaking his head at how the other had responded. "How long have you been alive?"

"Hmm….Four days and some hours."

"I see," Vegeta said thoughtfully.

Vegeta looked up when he heard running feet down the hall. Once he realized it was Bulma, he was immediately on high alert.

"Bulma, what's wrong?" he said urgently as soon as she emerged from the hallway.

"We need some saltwater _now_. He's going to expel probably the rest of it and I don't think Malachi has much control over when that happens."

Vegeta was already looking for a larger container as she spoke realizing what she was talking about. He found a large bowl and gave it to her. Then he felt it for a brief moment—a significant spark in energy.

"It's too late," Vegeta said looking towards the room now.

"What do you mean?" Bulma asked frantically, "What's happening?"

"Stay here," Vegeta said.

Jensen was already ahead of him as he jolted back down the hall. Vegeta followed in suit. He was unprepared for the scene before him once he arrived. Vegeta had seen the creature's original form. In fact, he was likely the only one who had seen it for his own eyes. It had been a shapeless gel-like creature that was pinkish and nearly translucent. That's all he'd expected to find here. Instead, he was looking at two Malachi's—one which could barely hold his head up, the other standing confidently before him with hair that was long and straightened, not wiry from too much sweat. They wore identical clothing. Jensen stood beside the bed obviously concerned about the one sitting on it.

"You again," the standing Malachi said when he beheld him. "The annoying bastard that keeps getting in my way. Leave it up to a Saiyan to have no qualms imprisoning even his own friends. He left you to rot in that prison cell at the Lookout," he said turning to the Malachi barely conscious sitting on the bed, "And humiliated you further with those damn metal cuffs. I don't know what you see in the guy."

"You won't…get away…" the weakened Malachi managed to say though only an octave above a whisper. "You're surrounded."

"He can't stop me and certainly not you. You're so _determined_ right now, aren't you, but you can barely move to scratch your ass," he said with a short laugh. "You realize you're nothing without me. I was the one who gave you strength. I was the one who made you feel invincible. All of that is gone now. You'll just be a mere human certainly not fit to fulfill any of your silly goals."

Vegeta wondered why the other didn't seem too concerned about the fact that he was there, fully capable of annihilating him with a good power blast. It was clear that the creature had grown stronger and that he had no definitive idea as to what the other was capable of. It wouldn't be wise to begin a fight without all the information, but it was also a good idea to attack when he least expected it. He waited for the perfect opportunity to present itself.

The standing Malachi looked to the small boy now as if he'd just noticed his presence. "You are of my kind, boy."

Jensen was looking at him now. "Who are you?"

"Laputa," the man said. His mouth curved into a confident grin. "I've lived in this universe for countless millennia and my knowledge is vast beyond your imagination. You have no idea of what you can and cannot do. I will teach you to reach your fullest potential. _I_ am the one who sired you—not that husk over there." He stepped forward and then held out his hand invitingly.

"No," Jensen said shying away from the man, "Y-You're evil."

"Good, evil, all human constructs. It seems you've been absorbing the _wrong_ information. You live to satisfy your own needs and that is all. One day you'll realize this and come to me once you've matured enough to see that."

 _Now!_ Vegeta's mind yelled at him when he realized the other was preoccupied with Jensen. Within a split second, he gathered his ki and threw it at the creature as fast as he could muster. The entire display was startling to say the least. He'd directed his blast at the creature, but it seemed to simply hit the ground head-on without any obstacles. The creature had vanished.

"There, the window!" Malachi shouted.

He barely saw the tail end of the translucent creature, but Vegeta wasted no time throwing more ki blasts utterly destroying the window. He launched his body outside and was met with nothing. Vegeta's eyes searched around frantically, but he couldn't find anything. Laputa was gone. It was as if he vanished into thin air. That feeling that he'd once again screwed up came bubbling to the surface and it was hard to ignore.

"Come out and face me, you rat!" Vegeta bellowed angrily. "I know why you're hiding," he continued at the same decibel. "You're too _weak_ to face me head on. You're always running, always biding your time. I've never seen a more spineless opponent. In the end, it doesn't matter _what_ you do—it will all end in your death. And you know that."

Vegeta was met with more silence as all his senses became tuned in with his surroundings, but he found nothing, only the incessant chirping of birds since it was morning. With hands clenched hard, he was forced to return indoors—he went through the destroyed window.

He found Jensen desperately trying to wake Malachi. He wasn't dead, Vegeta sensed, just immensely tired and drained. Vegeta walked over and not-so-gently shoved the kid aside so that he could have good position to bring Malachi back to wakefulness. He grabbed the other by the nape of his shirt and shook him perhaps harder than what was necessary, but it got the job done as Malachi now struggled to open his eyes.

"I need you to listen closely," Vegeta said in elevated tones. "Can you sense him, right now? Are you still connected to him in any way?"

"No," Malachi rasped, "Not at all."

With this, Vegeta dumped the other on the bed again. "Useless," he spat out in frustration.

"Hey! You're being too rough!" Jensen's voice squeaked in protest.

"Do not test me, boy!" Vegeta growled at the annoying child. It had the desired effect on Jensen who stood down accordingly.

"It's a relief to not have to hear him in my head anymore," Malachi said. He'd managed to sit up but his head was bowed and his breathing was a bit shallow. "I can…hear my own thoughts."

"Meanwhile, he's slipped through my fingers," Vegeta said with a frown. He turned towards the door intending to leave. "And we have no leads."

"He's still…just as weak as I am at this point. The separation was…jarring. It must have changed him somehow. I think he still might need a host, but…perhaps not as urgently as in the past."

"You're just guessing at this point," Vegeta said shaking his head

"That's all we can do," Malachi said as the other moved towards the exit. "You don't plan on going out there on your own, do you? It'll be just like trying to find the proverbial needle in a haystack."

"What I do is of no concern to you—

"Let me help you."

Vegeta looked back at Malachi. He could barely hold himself up, but he returned his gaze with one of determination. "There's nothing more you can do," Vegeta said finally.

Malachi's eyebrows furrowed at this. "Once I recover," he said as he leaned back against the headboard. His eyes fluttered as he tried to keep them open to no avail. "Once I recover…" he murmured as his head dropped down and some of his hair fell onto his face.

He'd finally fallen asleep and Vegeta suspected no amount of roughhousing could get him to wake this time.

"Dad?!" Jensen began worriedly, "Are you—is he alright?"

With this, Vegeta took one of the boy's arms and forcibly dragged him out, closing the door behind him.

"Go sit somewhere quietly," Vegeta said stonily.

Jensen frowned but found a spot right outside the room and sat down without uttering another word. Despite what Malachi wanted to do, Vegeta knew that it would be impossible at this point. Humans recovered slowly and by then Vegeta hoped to have already found and killed the tyrant known as Laputa.

* * *

 **AN** : Vegeta is back!

 **WildHeart44** : Malachi—not really at his finest. Lol!

 **storybook thumb** : Interesting penname. That is very true, but I've been setting up that fight you speak of for a while now. I don't know how people are going to feel when it happens, but I'll just be sure to write as I always have. So long as everyone's in character and it makes sense hopefully it'll be fine.

 **SierraLarson** : Die down? I'm just getting started. Lol!


	34. On the Brink of Something Special

**Days went by and Vegeta found nothing.** All was quiet and the world went on as if nothing was amiss. Vegeta could barely sleep thinking about what Laputa might be plotting. He had no idea what the other was capable of so he was forced to expect anything. He found himself going back over Malachi's suppositions as if they were facts. He needed to recover. Maybe that was why he hadn't made a move and Earth was still intact. If he still needed a host, did it matter which one he chose or could he be more lenient this time around? Why did he seem to have a solid form despite being separated from Malachi?

He was banging his head up against an impenetrable wall sitting in deep contemplation when his phone began to vibrate startling him more than he wanted to admit. He put it up to his ear without even reading the caller ID.

"Hello?" Vegeta said quickly.

"Oh, so you're alive?" Malachi's voice said teasingly.

"Malachi?" Vegeta said almost forgetting to hide his surprise. "Aren't you supposed to be somewhere dead to the world?"

"That was quite some time ago. You've been trying to track down a ghost while leaving your MVP on the bench. Not one of your most brilliant plans. Bra told me she can hardly get a hold of you these days unless it's over a phone."

How long had it been? Vegeta began to wonder as he looked at his surroundings. He was in the middle of nowhere and no closer to Laputa as he'd been before. He hadn't realized how much time had passed as the days began to blend together on his quest to search every square inch of the planet and darting off to any minute sparks in energy.

"Bra said that? You two are talking now?"

"We've been talking," Malachi said as if it was common knowledge. "In fact, more than that, but you'd know that if you ever stepped foot in your house every once in a while. You've been missing out on a lot of good food by the way." He paused before he continued. "Bulma's worried too."

Vegeta didn't like being out of the loop with his own family—it was beginning to frustrate him. "Then what the hell have you been doing this whole time? Have you just given up?" he asked in agitated tones.

"Forgive me for not wanting to waste my energy on longshots," Malachi said back unperturbed. "If he wants to be found, then he'll let us know, but no sooner than that. You realize he was able to get away from you despite being only a few inches in front of you. You can't really believe that you'd 'stumble' upon him somehow. He has countless lifetimes of experience in staying hidden and he obviously knows about Saiyans. Sometimes you need to know when to enjoy what time you have left with those that mean the most to you."

"So you _have_ given up," Vegeta growled.

"I haven't. He's waiting and I'm waiting. You should do the same. Our only hope is that he won't simply be satisfied with destroying this planet, but personally seeing to our demise first. It felt that way right before he left me. I do believe we've managed to stoke his temper. We still have Jensen as well and he showed some interest in him. He will show himself in due time and we will be ready."

Malachi's certainty and lack of urgency was beginning to tick him off, doubly so when he realized the other was making a lot of sense. But that was his way. He seemed to be the voice of reason when others couldn't reach him. He, however, hated admitting that he might have been wrong or acting foolishly. He hung up the phone abruptly and flew off back to his place. It was a long ways off. All that time as he flew, he received no further calls from Malachi—he must have gotten the message.

He took his time doing so. Machi would be there. He didn't dislike her, but he hardly knew what to do with her aside from the usual maintenance. He was sure he was an expert in changing diapers and feeding her whenever she was hungry. Beyond that, he was at a loss. He'd hold her in his arms and she'd either be crying her eyes out or staring curiously up at him. She was better off preoccupying herself with the plethora of baby toys that had already been bought for her. Bra had told him that music could calm her down when she got out of hand so they already had quite a collection of kid-friendly songs on hand.

The oddness he felt around Machi when she didn't need anything was likely because she couldn't talk and it wasn't always easy to understand what she was thinking. When others weren't looking, he would simply talk to her not expecting anything intelligent in response. She seemed entertained by this, but he felt silly doing it. He supposed it had been the same with Bra. He hadn't improved since then.

Vegeta landed near the estate and decided to walk the rest of the way. He hadn't expected Malachi to be waiting for him outside near the gravitron. His ki signature was nonexistent.

"So you decided to show up," Malachi said with a grin. "I sensed you coming and decided to give you a warm welcome."

Vegeta looked at the other with a raised eyebrow sensing something strange about the situation. "I wasn't aware you could sense ki all that well."

"Things change," Malachi said simply. "And I've been waiting a while for you to return. I almost thought about going after you."

"Whatever point you're trying to get to, just spit it out already—you're acting weird, even for you," Vegeta said with a scowl.

"Can't you tell? I'm really excited right now. This might sound a bit out of the blue, but will you spar with me?"

"So you're back to your death wish. If you spar with me, I won't go easy on you."

"I think we could both use the challenge."

"You won't be a challenge," Vegeta retorted.

"You could be right, but you could just as likely be mistaken. I do believe my own power has increased quite a bit."

"I see your training with Tien has made you stronger."

"Among other things. Have you accepted my challenge?" Malachi asked.

"Fine, kid, I'll accept your challenge. It's been a while since I've had a live person to pound into a pulp."

"Just keep those threats coming. It'll be all the more satisfying when I beat you."

The spar began without further ado as Vegeta became the aggressor early on. Clearly, he wanted to end things in a comically short amount of time, but Malachi was ready for him. Vegeta found his initial attacks being evaded or parried, then his fists were caught firmly within the other's grasp. For a moment, when Vegeta attempted to pull back, he was utterly stuck. Malachi had far more strength than he anticipated. Before he could fully comprehend what was happening, he flipped backwards releasing his hands at the right moment to allow him to be thrown back once he received a solid kick to the face. He flew right into a ki blast when he launched himself towards Malachi once again, then he deflected the next one. Once he finally got to him, however, the other faded out of the way. When had he gotten so fast? Powering up a little, he moved to where he knew Malachi was and unleashed quite a barrage of hand-to-hand attacks.

Malachi seemed to have an answer to all his moves whether he took a hit and quickly retaliated or completely parried the attack. Then they pulled back from one another. Vegeta knew that he would have to take this fight a little more seriously. He hadn't been tracking Malachi's progress in training, but it seemed he was far along. Either that or he was missing something vital. Vegeta wouldn't put it passed the other to also be doing something unbeknownst to him.

"So far, everything is going just as I envisioned it," Malachi said smugly. There was a grin on his face that Vegeta would like to have snatched off his face.

"We'll see how long that lasts," Vegeta said with a scowl.

Vegeta didn't waste any time attacking Malachi head on. He'd just admitted to having a plan which meant it would be better if he knocked him out quickly. He tried to do just this, but Malachi was able to keep up with him. Soon they were fighting each other equally all throughout the expansive backyard back and forth, locked within a rhythm. Vegeta knew it was Malachi's way to break away from such things in order to surprise the other so he did so before the other could get a chance to. He unleashed a ki blast in the moment he was sure the other expected a punch to be thrown. As Malachi was flung back for the first time since the spar began, Vegeta felt quite satisfied.

"Nice one," Malachi said just loud enough for him to hear from the ground, "I was starting to get a little bored."

Just like that a hefty ki blast shot up towards him at startling speeds. Vegeta wasn't even aware the other could pull that off in such a short time. It apparently didn't have a name, but it was definitely substantial enough for Vegeta to decide to simply evade than try to deflect or push back with his own ki. Once he moved back out of the way, he didn't have much time to breathe because Malachi was there to meet him. Some of his kicks seemed to come out of nowhere, they were acrobatic. His form was quite impressive with good balance and coordination. He slid smoothly into his next attacks and it made his own movements feel far more rigid in comparison. It became clear to Vegeta that Malachi must have perfected his own fighting style—a mixture of his own natural movements married to those taught by him with the overarching discipline of Tien's style. No matter, he could still get the upper hand. He was a Saiyan, after all.

Up until that point, Vegeta had been trying to gauge the other to see how much physical effort he would have to put into their little sparring session to come out on top. Once again, the two separated and Vegeta powered up further. Malachi did as well, something Vegeta had not thought the other would bother with. Vegeta expected to feel that odd nausea that came along with the other expelling energy in this way, but he felt nothing of the sort. It immediately caught him off guard. Did he know then? Had he honed this ability as well? It didn't seem as if he was actually using it, but all the same it was strangely missing. Vegeta reached the cusp of his Super Saiyan form and Malachi was able to just match it as a wild near invisible flame of ki sprouted around him as he cried out—it was a great amount of energy for Malachi to be unleashing and it was a level that Vegeta had no idea the other could reach. Just how effective had Tien's training been?

They clashed against each other with a shockwave of energy that reverberated through the surrounding air. They were once again equal in strength and they each fought expecting to throw that one good punch or kick that would send the other sailing. It never happened and they separated once again. Vegeta could tell that Malachi had reached his limit, however impressive the fight had been thus far. He breathing was heavier and he sweated freely. Vegeta hadn't even broken a sweat—this was still within the norms of a spar for him, but he suspected that Malachi was taking this fight much more seriously; he always did.

Vegeta came at him with the same intensity and yet again Malachi was able to dish out just as much as he was. There were no tricks this time, simply combat. It was something that Vegeta had not done in a while. Perhaps, in the end, this was good practice for what he could be facing later. As intricate as Bulma's A.I. had become with the robots that assisted him in training, it was still not the same as fighting a real person and was certainly not like facing Malachi. Just as he had thought when he first officially met him, he did last longer than Bra's other intended mates.

Vegeta expected to wear the other down eventually, but he seemed relentless. Surely, he didn't have too much more left in him. Malachi was beginning to collect a lot of scratches and bruises from the other, but he was more or less unfazed by this. It was then that he knew he'd have to transform if he wanted to end this battle anytime soon. So abruptly, he moved a good ways from Malachi effectively evading his latest attacks and ascended to his Super Saiyan form within a split second.

"Finally," Malachi said singularly and not to anyone in particular, but Vegeta heard.

This was what the other had wanted. Malachi increased his power as well as much as he could. It was a difficult affair for the other as he cried out as if in pain. Something was different about his aura. There were unmistakable sparks of electricity going off around him.

"Let's see how long you last," Vegeta said seeing that the other was likely at his most powerful.

"I don't want you to hold back," Malachi declared to the other. He moved into a stance that Vegeta assumed had been taught to him by Tien—it was one that he'd seen a few times now.

Vegeta _would_ hold back because it was a spar and not a fight to the death. He did not plan to critically injure the other and incapacitate someone who's talents could be put to better use against the real threat they were facing. There was more intensity in in his attacks, but he did so with careful precision. Likely, the other would not be able to tell the difference. Malachi was able to connect a few of his kicks, but they felt like feathers against him. Vegeta landed far more hits and was able to knock the other easily to the ground quite a few times. Each time, Malachi would come back for more. Let it not be said that the other lacked tenacity. He was certainly not afraid to take a few hits. It could be useful in certain situations, but for now it was simply annoying. It was a bit like playing tennis and Malachi was the tennis ball.

Malachi ate dirt once again and Vegeta decided that this would be the last time they continued this cycle.

"We both know who won," Vegeta called out to the other who was just lifting himself from the rubble. "You didn't really expect to beat me, did you?"

"You already know the answer to that!" Malachi shouted back.

"No, no, I don't actually. It's hard to tell how deluded you are from day to day."

Vegeta received no verbal response to this, but all of a sudden, he began to sense a skyrocketing ki. It was a massive ki blast being formed within the other's cupped palms. From there, Vegeta got his answer: Very deluded. It was not one that could be formed so quickly and Vegeta felt the other pouring what energy he had left into the blast. This was likely going to be his final blast before being done in by unconsciousness. He'd have to talk to Malachi later about doing something so foolhardy. Vegeta had done something similar to a far worse degree and wound up killing himself—it did little to turn the tide of the battle against Majin Buu and was probably one of the most disappointing moments of his fighting career from a strategic standpoint.

Vegeta decided that he would make this last move count and powered up his own blast near the tail end of the other's relatively slow formation. He made sure to launch his just as the other released his. Very quickly they were in an intense ki battle, both pushing against each other. Vegeta didn't want to overwhelm the other too quickly. He played ball for a few moments. He felt Malachi putting real effort into his blast and even pumping in more energy. Vegeta grinned at this, the man had passion, but it would not be enough. Little by little he edged his blast forth with ease feeling the other struggle against it each time he did so. He felt only a little bad toying with the other's expectations, but he'd been asking for this. It was time he learned the reality of the situation. He was a Saiyan and the other was human. When it came to raw energy, there would always be an insurmountable—

His thoughts were interrupted by another spike in energy. Malachi's cries had intensified, refusing to be pushed back any more. He couldn't see what was happening, he was too far away and the size of the ki energy was too immense. He knew what ascension felt like in regards to sensing it with ki sense. Others had done it around him countless times. _This_ was what he was feeling. His cries echoed out. It wasn't a smooth ascension, he sensed an erratic movement of energy, increasing and decreasing rapidly. Then all at once, it disappeared. His ki signature became almost nonexistent and all within a split second, Vegeta felt his own blast rapidly overwhelming the others. Vegeta shot down quickly to Malachi's position to grab his unconscious form and move out of the way before he could be struck by not only his own energy but Vegeta's as well.

Vegeta was safely in the air when the power blasts made contact with the ground causing a great amount of destruction including completely decimating the gravitron. A destroyed gravitron could be replaced eventually, but he'd have to deal with an extremely irate Bulma. He assumed remaking an entire machine from scratch took more effort than simply replacing parts. His mind, however, was not concentrated on Bulma's reaction to all of this. He was more concerned about what he'd just witnessed or more like felt a few moments ago. He trusted his own instincts more than even his sight, but it was difficult to reconcile reality with what he'd accepted as truth for a very long time. Surely, there was some other explanation for what he'd felt. Could there exist an ascended human? Was that even possible for them?

Goku had adopted many earthly customs including their fighting techniques and ki blasts. He had done so not fully knowing what he was in the first place. In reality, Vegeta wasn't entirely knowledgeable about his own race. He'd left their society just old enough to remember and draw from, but not enough to provide a full in-depth analysis. He had still been a child and saw it only in that perspective. He knew more about Earth than he did the planet he was born on—it was a fact that he'd long since made peace with. He learned how to sense ki when he realized it was something he was likely capable of. Goku could do it, so he should be as well. It was easy to forget that Goku had learned it from earthlings. Was it not then possible for the opposite to occur? Humans who were as well naturally born with ki and could manipulate it in the same way as they became older—could they not perform similar feats of a Saiyan?

Clearly Malachi believed this. In fact, that was what he'd been striving for probably since he'd first showed him the transformation. Yet other human warriors had not done anything like what he'd felt from Malachi that day. Vegeta couldn't completely rationalize it, but he understood that new grounds were being broken and that there was much that couldn't be put into a succinct explanation. For now, the spar was over so he made his way back to the main living quarters of the estate.

As soon as he stepped in, he was met by Bra who already looked upset. He couldn't win for losing. He was holding an unconscious Malachi, but in the same way one would hold a jacket in one arm—that didn't help things.

"Really, Dad? You're still beating up my boyfriend? You haven't been back five minutes and—"

Not feeling up to hearing his daughter rant, he tossed Malachi towards her as if he were a ragdoll and just like that Bra was more concerned about catching him before he made a terrible landing with the ground.

"You can have him back. When he wakes up, your crazy boyfriend can confirm that _he_ instigated the whole thing."

"Even so—" This time she paused when she heard Machi crying in the background. "We'll talk about this later," she said haughtily as she turned abruptly with Malachi in her arms.

He didn't see Bra for a while after that and by then he went in search of Bulma or more like he made a beeline to her underground lab where she spent the most time and he currently sensed her.

"Vegeta, glad you finally decided to pay your family a visit," she said as she was looking intently at something in the microscope. "I'm guessing you didn't find who you were looking for."

"No," Vegeta said taking a seat on a nearby stool. "Maybe it wasn't the best of ideas to go looking for him when I didn't have any leads."

"Maybe, maybe not," Bulma said as she lifted her face away from the microscope, "But it at least sounds like a better plan than sitting around and waiting for Laputa to make a move first. I feel like we're sitting ducks. I've asked Malachi what he thinks the other might do and it doesn't sound good."

"Do you think we can trust him? Has he done anything out of the ordinary?"

"He has a clean bill of health. Well, mostly." Vegeta looked at her questioningly. "Is he still infested with some foreign entity's DNA? No. In fact, everything about him appears fine except for the migraines. He would get them at least twice in a day if not more and they would last for a couple hours. For the life of me, I don't know what the cause of it is. My scanners come up with nothing out of the ordinary, but when it happens, they can confirm its presence."

Vegeta imagined it must have been slightly irritating to be scanned as often as it seemed Bulma was doing to Malachi, but she was being understandably thorough with things. "And what about the kid?"

Bulma gave him a smirk. "Believe it or not, that is his child—with traces of Laputa's own DNA mixed in with his human parents. That's what I'm studying now. There are some interesting facets to his chemical makeup. He seems harmless though with a borderline obsessive need to impress Malachi. Poor kid, he doesn't know that it's an uphill battle with that guy. Aside from that, he seems perfectly fine. So, we can all breathe a tentative sigh of relief," she finished as she went back to peering into the microscope.

Vegeta wondered if he should tell the other about the demise of the gravitron, but then thought better on it. He could wait and he didn't feel like upsetting the woman just yet. Besides, he'd already gotten a decent workout today. Bulma seemed preoccupied as well though he watched her for a bit longer jotting things down in a notepad as she continued to observe whatever was under the slide.

He exited the lab to see if there was any food to find, but when he made it to the kitchen, he realized Bunny was in it already starting to cook for dinner. He didn't want to make small talk with the strange woman so he slipped away before he could be noticed. He supposed he'd be starving until such time the food was ready. He made a trip upstairs where Bra was. She was preoccupied with Machi at the moment so he looked in on where he sensed Malachi to be first. Clearly, he hadn't moved in the slightest since Bra had placed him there, but he still had a steady heartbeat. Jensen was there as well just sitting on the floor near the bed and playing on a cellphone that Vegeta recognized to be Malachi's. He didn't give the boy the chance to look up and notice him; he disappeared quickly.

Eventually, he made his way downstairs seeing as everyone was fine and had nothing pressing to deal with. Preferring then to spend what time he had left before dinner on his own, he made himself comfortable in the living room and turned on the television. Anything to keep his mind from obsessing over the fact that they were practically twiddling their thumbs and that, for now, the ball was in Laputa's court.

* * *

 **AN** : ...~awaits flames~ Next chapter probably a bit longer and not in Vegeta's POV. Till next time!

 **SierraLarson:** Yes, Malachi is super relieved about that. Let's hope its smooth sailing from here on out...

 **WildHeart44:** I enjoyed writing that particular conversation. Took a while though. Poor Jensen not really fitting in. Also, so much more in store to go into in the next few chapters.


	35. Climax

Malachi awoke in searing pain—it was likely what had woken him up in the first place. He could hardly put two thoughts together; his body simply reacted and soon he was no longer lying down but doubled over with his head smashed into the pillow and his hands smooshed between that and his forehead. His eyes were clenched shut and he simply waited for it to subside.

But it never did. Instead, he gradually grew used to its presence. Migraines never passed so easily. They lingered on and on. The first time he'd felt something like that he'd cried out in pain. The second time, he was merely paralyzed. Many times later, he was at least still able to function to a certain extent. He noticed other things as well at the moment. He felt physically drained. Slowly, he began to recount what had happened before that had put him into this condition—his spar with Vegeta. Something had happened there. He lifted his head a little, but then placed it back down with a sigh; he wasn't ready to move just yet.

He'd been itching to spar with him for some time now. Ever since he recovered from what had taken place with Laputa, he wanted to confirm the extent of his own power. For over a year, he felt what it was like to be invincible. It was strength that was not his, but he experienced it all the same as if it was. They had not been two separate people, they had been one. Once Laputa was officially eliminated from his being, mentally, he could feel the difference, but not physically. His own power compensated for what was lost as if it had always been there—perhaps it had been. From experience, Malachi knew that knowing how something felt was far more valuable than traditionally learning it from someone else. One trained and trained until they could eventually imitate the one who taught them—that was the natural way of things, but it was a limitation as well. Being exposed as he was to what real power felt like allowed his own body to imitate in a far quicker way. It was like riding a bike one day even though a few moments ago, it could not be done and then riding that bike for quite some time. The muscle memory was there. Unless that knowledge, that feeling was taken away, there was no reason why that person wouldn't still be able to ride that bike.

His own energy moved in ways that it had not before. It had expanded and increased its presence. That same feeling of invincibility never left him, but it did feel a bit different—it was completely his own energy. Malachi wasn't even sure how to use his ki any other way. He'd used it differently before, but it felt foreign. He always limited his ki use for fear of using too much of it. There had been so much more control before, more preciseness, only releasing the energy right before unleashing an attack and then reigning it in right after. It was an exhausting procedure, but he had felt it was something that had been necessary at the time to conserve his energy. He hadn't been exercising the ki that he had, never pushing the boundaries too much, causing his own progress as far as ki went to remain minimal.

He didn't want to go into battle afraid to use his own ki anymore. Allowing his ki to do as it pleased required far less concentration and allowed him to focus more on combat. Very nearly in the advanced classes of Tien's training, he had a good grasp on form and different techniques. He was motivated as well. It had not only been his goal to fight Vegeta, but also to beat him. He had to believe that it was possible to do that or else he would not have attempted in the first place. No matter if logic told him that he would most certainly lose, he ignored this. He needed to ignore this so that he could fight at his utmost best. He wanted to know how far he'd grown as a fighter and he had gotten his answer.

Then he'd felt his own power spiraling out of control in a way he had not known was possible. He tried to reign it in to no avail and that was the last thing he remembered. But the feeling remained. Had he stumbled onto something he shouldn't have once again? It could be he had been pushing himself too hard—a comment he had heard from Vegeta before when he'd sparred against Krillin. He had been warned against doing such things, to always watch how much ki he outputted so that he could avoid a similar situation. Perhaps he'd failed on that front once again. How close to death had he been this time? And why had it felt so exhilarating? He knew he wouldn't be able to explain the exhilaration to Bra—she'd call him crazy or insensitive, that he cared more about himself than his own family. Vegeta had already claimed that he had a death wish. Perhaps it wasn't too far from the truth. Either way, whatever had happened during that spar, he would try not to repeat. Though he wasn't entirely clear what had caused it in the first place, he would still attempt to avoid the same mishap.

"Daddy, dinner is ready," Jensen's small voice said startling him a little because he had not known the child had been there.

Malachi lifted his head a little and risked opening his eyes as he looked in the child's general direction. The room was thankfully dim—the blinds were down and it was getting into the evening time it seemed.

"What? Do you need my permission? You know what to do," Malachi said. He returned to his previous position with a sigh.

"But…Aren't you coming?"

"No," he said though his voice was muffled by the pillow.

"Are you okay?"

"Does it look like it?" Malachi replied though this time he turned his head a little so that the other could hear better.

"Is it…that headache again?"

Malachi didn't bother answering this time.

"I could bring a plate for you."

"No," Malachi grumbled.

His stomach betrayed him when it growled quite audibly. He was sure the other had heard it. The smell of food was permeating the house and Malachi could already imagine Vegeta being drawn to it. If he waited too long, Vegeta would likely not save anything for him. It was that thought that encouraged the other to sit up properly. The pain still hadn't subsided and he was still having misgivings about doing anything at this point, but he hated feeling hungry with a passion—that was one sensation he would not tolerate if he could help it. With another sigh, he climbed out of bed and waited for the ensuing nausea to subside. He took a moment to evaluate himself in the mirror, something he did more often than he liked to admit. He brushed down his bedhead and noted the bandages and lack of a shirt. He quickly remedied the situation and made himself presentable. He had to prepare himself for brightness, for people talking, for Machi crying, for Bulma being overly observant.

"I knew you wanted to come," Jensen said with a bright smile.

"Yeah, and I knew you were still going to be an annoying little brat," he said with little remorse.

He made his way out of the room that he shared with Bra. Were it not for Bulma, they would already be living elsewhere, but the place was more than big enough to accommodate them. He could hear the voices downstairs as he approached the stairway and slowly made his descent. He wasn't entirely sure how much time had passed since his spar, but it was evening time. He hoped it hadn't been an entire day. Though judging from his hunger pangs and its lack of severity it probably hadn't been long.

Jensen followed behind him as he stepped into the dining room where everyone was already settling down. Malachi imagined Vegeta had been there ages ago as soon as he smelled the doneness of the food. Machi was already making a fuss, moments away from outright crying. He could tell his presence was unexpected as they all looked up at once when he entered.

"Malachi," Bra said with a smile, pleasantly surprised, "I didn't know you'd be up so soon."

"I didn't know either," Malachi said with a grin, "Sorry, if I worried you."

Bra shook her head. "I wasn't worried—well, not too much—"

"Daddy has another headache," Jensen said loudly.

Just like that, all that prep he'd put into attempting to hide this from everyone was null and void. He couldn't help but look at the boy with obvious weariness. Jensen looked back with a broad smile. He couldn't tell if the boy was smug or genuinely happy that he'd told everyone.

"You do?" Bulma asked immediately after, "You need to let me know every time that happens. Clearly, you're still not out of the woods yet and we don't know what's causing this to happen."

"Yes, well, how about we enjoy this meal together first before all that," Malachi answered wearily.

Machi was really tearing up now and Bra's attention was on her. Vegeta was silently watching the scene unfold—he'd not deemed it necessary to put forth any input into the situation.

"This won't take long," Bulma said dismissively, "I have my scanner already."

He knew it well since he'd seen it so often. It was a small compact device that could easily fit into her pocket. Malachi suspected she carried it around more often solely for his sake. Jensen had taken a seat at the table beside Bra, the very one that he'd wanted to take. He and Jensen seemed to fight over who got to sit beside Bra whether he was sitting beside Machi to feed her that day or not. It was annoying him more than it should, he supposed. But it wasn't unusual for small things to bother him unnecessarily these days.

Bulma had approached him and was doing her usual scan of his entire body. He had to remain still for the reading to be accurate—she'd said this so often that he simply did it without question.

"Thank you," she said afterwards, "I know this seems a bit excessive, but the more information I have to work with, the better."

"I understand, really," he said reassuringly despite his growing annoyance.

"I'll analyze this later, but at the very least, you appear well," Bulma said looking at him closely.

"I'll take that as a compliment,"he said as he finally moved past her and sat down.

Bra was not having a good time settling Machi down as everyone else served themselves from the spread Bunny had placed out on the table. Eventually, she lifted the baby out of the booster seat and handed her over to Malachi—she had to reach over Jensen to do this.

"Here, sing her something," Bra said.

"Me?" Malachi asked wearily as he now held her. The volume of her crying had increased now that she was right in front of him. He closed his eyes helplessly.

"Yeah, guy who likes doing stuff like that," she said with a huff, "Just do it quickly, alright, and then it will be over."

Malachi suddenly found it hard to think up something to sing. It wasn't as if this was the first time Machi was bawling. He could repeat what he'd done before on multiple occasions. At this moment, however, he was at a loss and he found himself staring back at the fitful baby. All the while, he felt slicing pain relentlessly afflicting him with no end in sight. If only he could crawl into some dark corner…His hands were beginning to tremble now. He tried to still them, but he found he could not. He sat up a little straighter in his chair intending to sing utter gibberish, but he could hardly bring himself to do even that. He needed to do something, but—

"Here, I can take her," Bulma said much to his relief.

Machi was taken off his hands and soon she was in Bulma's lap. She cooed to the baby as she bounced her around on her lap, moving her legs up and down energetically. Malachi turned when he felt Bra's hand on his shoulder; she'd once again reached over Jensen.

"Sorry," she said quietly, "I had no idea that—

"No, i-it's fine," Malachi said quickly. He could barely get the utter lie to come out of his mouth, but he didn't want to make her worry or feel bad. He'd been hiding the severity of his headaches to her because he didn't feel it was necessary for her to know. Every time she showed concern, he minimized whatever it was she was concerned about. He supposed such things had backfired.

Bulma had taken it upon herself to feed Machi as the others finally dug in. Even eating was difficult to enjoy. Every part of him was hyper aware of the pain and it seemed his taste buds weren't nearly as excited about food in general. The entire thing simply became a chore.

"You kept up pretty well in that spar earlier," Vegeta said to him interrupting the arduous activity that was eating. "Tien's training must have been fruitful."

"It helped me with technique," Malachi said putting his utensils down.

"More than that," Vegeta said mysteriously. He'd already finished off half of his plate.

Malachi knew the other to eat even faster than this, but something was on his mind. "Well, things didn't go as planned obviously, else I'd be bragging right about now," he said with a grin.

Vegeta shook his head probably at his audacity. "What was the 'plan' anyway? Lose miserably?"

"I wouldn't say I lost miserably," Malachi said thoughtfully, "I made you turn Super Saiyan."

"You did what?!" both Bra and Bulma shouted at once.

The sudden loudness of their intrusion drew a weary groan from Malachi—it had done nothing to make the pain any more manageable. "It's not a big deal," Malachi said trying to squelch their surprise. "That's what I was going for anyway. I challenged him to a spar and it almost went the way I wanted it to, alright?" he said with a sigh.

"Almost?" Vegeta said with a sneer. "You're getting a bit ahead of yourself, aren't you? I was going easy on you."

"Well, who's fault was that? I didn't ask you to do that," Malachi said with a frown.

"Fragile humans always testing my patience," Vegeta said in darkening tones as he stood up. He'd finished everything on his plate by then. "I'm not going to critically injure you while we're still under threat from Laputa. Did you account for that in your silly plans?"

"Please, Vegeta, you make it sound like Laputa is some huge deal, but you don't need me to defeat him. You don't need anyone to do that. All you need is for him to appear—and he most certainly will— and I'm sure you'll handle the rest. I was told you can reach levels far beyond Super Saiyan—you didn't bother to tell me that. But you have the nerves to actually be worried about Laputa, worried enough to think that you might need help defeating him from me of all people. As much as I want to be the one who defeats him, it would be silly for me to face him with you around. So I'm not concerned about him in the least. The only thing I'm concerned about is reaching your level and not just reaching it, but surpassing it!" Malachi had stood up as well.

"Do you hear yourself right now? You are just a mere human plain and simple. What you've been trying to do is a fool's errand! You plan on ascending—"

"Yes, that is one of my goals," Malachi interrupted him. His voice was raised and so was Vegeta's.

"That's impossible. No human has done it before. What makes you think you can? What makes you so special?" Vegeta growled at him.

"I've already pictured it in my mind—I can practically feel it. It will happen whether you think it will or not and you're going to help me do it by not holding back anything when you fight me!"

"Boy," Vegeta growled as he approached the other and stopped when he was only a hairsbreadth away from him. "I can beat you within an inch of your life and you wouldn't even see it coming."

"All bark but no bite. Here I am still standing," Malachi bit back. He was in no mood to back down from the other. All the while his headache bore down on him with a heavy hand as if warning him of what he was getting himself into.

"Boys knock it off!" Bulma shouted.

"You're upsetting Machi," Bra added wearily.

"Vegeta, you can't really be taking his words to heart—clearly he's not in his right mind," Bulma said storming over to the pair.

"Well then tell him to watch his mouth," Vegeta said not taking his eyes off Malachi.

"I don't take orders from anyone," Malachi said brazenly, "Leastly from your wife."

Malachi knew this would send him over the edge. Even if he didn't exactly say anything bad about her, mentioning his wife in that tone of voice would be enough. Somewhere along the line, this had turned from a friendly inquisitive conversation to one fueled by anger. He'd watched it dissolve, but he just couldn't stop himself. He should have backed down, but some small part of him wanted to know how far Vegeta could be pushed before he struck back like a cornered animal. That coupled with the fact Vegeta had insulted and written off his goals like it was a pipedream and his mind wasn't exactly running on all cylinders led them to this point. Malachi knew the fist was coming so he was prepared for it, but just barely. In that instant, Vegeta had turned Super Saiyan. In the next instant, Malachi felt his body flying through a multitude of walls before falling down onto the ground outside with a hard, unforgiving landing.

He could hear Bra shouting in the background, but he easily tuned her out when Vegeta appeared before him again in all his blond glory. He was snatched off the ground roughly and brought to his level once again.

"I don't care if you've lost your mind or not—It's clear you didn't get enough of a beating last time. Let me show you the true strength of a Super Saiyan and I will give you a pain you've never experienced before," Vegeta said in dark tones.

He should have been afraid, but he wasn't. What could be worse than what he was feeling now? Physical pain would be a welcome relief from the insidious migraine that wouldn't go away. Vegeta pummeled him with punches he'd never felt from the man before. He'd drawn blood instantly and for a while Malachi was caught up in the sweet rapture of pain and helplessness. He knew he'd regret it later when his high-strung emotions calmed and his body could fully appreciate the physical trauma. For now, adrenaline had him in its grips and he fought back almost mindlessly. He couldn't comprehend what he was even doing. He wondered if this was when he'd lose his sanity for good. He let his indignancy shield him from the fear and delude him from acknowledging his mortality. His skin felt as if it was burning red hot as his ki pushed forth as if through a wired cage. He cried out as if being strangled when he felt something deep within struggling to come forth. He would not let it go this time. He would not falter in weakness. This had to happen now or he would be breathing his last breath.

Then his world was overtaken by a bright light, blinding and all encompassing. All the pain disappeared, all the emotions he'd been feeling were wiped clean. He saw clearly now his opponent who was Vegeta. They were levitating in the air and Vegeta was looking at him as if he'd seen a ghost. There was only one thing on his mind. He couldn't shake it. His thoughts seemed locked in place. He pointed at Vegeta with his index finger for good measure.

"Die," Malachi found himself saying. He was no longer shouting, but speaking calmly.

All he knew was that he wanted to fight and that was the only thing that would satisfy him, that was the only thing that he lived for. He would fight until the other was no longer able to do so. He launched himself forth towards Vegeta's glowing form and the two of them fought holding nothing back.

They were trading blows with one another and Malachi dispensed of the underhanded tricks, craving a lasting fight. This went on for over an hour as the sun slowly vanished from the sky and the two luminescent figures flitted through the sky relentlessly, their hits reverberating through the air over and over again.

As it were, Vegeta finally established the upper hand when he was forced to ascend further, but it was not an easy fight to put an end to. Malachi fought with little regard for his own life. At the moment, fighting was all that he lived for and it was a relieving feeling. There was no complexity there only one's instincts and a desire to win. When he felt himself weakening and losing his dominance in the brawl, he only fought harder and kept on like this until Vegeta was finally able to immobilize him with a precise hit to the back of the skull.

/

Malachi woke up to searing pain and a powerful feeling of déjà vu washed over him. This time the pain was worse. It was everywhere and he could hardly move. He hadn't felt this kind trauma since that time Bra got a little too rough in bed. He laughed despite himself at this—it sounded more like a cough than anything else.

"Malachi?" came Bra's voice. She sounded tired as if she'd just awoken.

He turned his head slowly thankful that he could do this at all to find Bra at a desk sitting in a chair. Her eyebrows were a bit furrowed as he looked at him with freshly opened eyes. He managed a smile and she smiled back at him.

"You idiot," Bra said causing him pause, "What the hell has gotten into you? Have you lost your mind talking to my dad like that? You were asking for it."

"I…maybe I have," he admitted when he couldn't find an explanation.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

"Like I just picked a fight with your father."

Bra grinned at him. "Do you…Well, do you remember what happened?" she asked. Her voice had taken on a different tone.

He shook his head. "Not really. I just know I was being incredibly stupid and then…well, the rest is a blur," he said with furrowed eyebrows. "I mean, I ended up here so I can probably fill in the blanks."

"Malachi, do you realize you fought my father for over an hour?" Bra said in low tones.

"I did?" Malachi asked confused.

She nodded. "You did…and I've never seen anything like it. I haven't seen my dad fight like that in ages and definitely not so close up. Malachi, what happened to you? Your ki felt so different."

"Just tell me what you saw and maybe I'll remember," Malachi said mystified.

Bra nodded slowly. "Honestly, I thought it was going to be a…bloodbath. I couldn't believe you'd actually say those things to him. I know you can sometimes be offhanded—I mean, we've argued plenty of times before, but you know when to back down. This time, it was different and dad really wasn't holding anything back when he first started attacking you. All I could do was scream—"

"I'm sorry for making you worry," Malachi interjected.

"No you're not," Bra said with a huff. "There are times when I think you like testing people, you like danger and I doubt you're going to stop doing that now—not just because I'm worried about you."

"I'm sorry all the same," he said looking away from her.

Bra continued unperturbed. "Mom went out there intending to put a stop to it all. Dad always listens to her, but you two had gotten away from us. Things were happening so quickly. Mom was screaming at the top of her lungs trying to get Dad's attention and then I felt you changing just like that," she said with a click of her finger. "There was this bright light like a star but it was too close to the ground and then everything was at a standstill. Mom couldn't see it perfectly, but she knew something had happened. I knew I was looking at the same person, but you looked different. I couldn't see your face and you seemed to be in your own world, but your hair had turned white. That was when the real fight began. My eyes couldn't keep up. It was at a level I hadn't witnessed in a long time. Then, eventually, Dad was able to knock you out and that was that. Do you…remember any of that?"

Malachi looked away from her and closed his eyes. "I think it's coming back to me," he said slowly. "It just feels like I'm looking through someone else's eyes."

Images flitted passed his eyes and his mind began to fill in the blanks. It was like being strapped onto a rollercoaster and not being able to get off. _Was I really moving that fast? Can I recreate that feeling?_ Then as if he were hit by a strike of lightening, another headache took hold of him and gripped him mercilessly causing him to involuntarily cry out as he turned over and ducked under the sheets. Now of all times. The pain was familiar but no more enjoyable.

"Malachi?" Bra said with concern.

He felt her presence close to him as she joined him on the bed. She tried to peek under the covers, but he held it firmly down now dreading the brightness of the room.

"It's okay," she said in soft tones, "It's okay. It's another migraine, isn't it?"

She sat on the bed with her back to the headboard. Gently, she caressed the back of his head through the covers. He didn't trust his voice to not sound utterly pathetic at the moment so he said nothing.

"It's been happening everyday like some sort of punishment," Bra went on in a soft voice. She did so purposefully. He'd grudgingly admitted a while ago when she was shouting at him angrily over something—he'd forgotten what it was—that loud noises and bright lights exacerbated the issue. He liked to think he could handle pain and work through it. In fact, he prided himself on being able to do this. Where others faltered, he always imagined he alone could stand strong, but reality didn't always match up with his expectations. As if to spite him, he was brought down low every time by a migraine—a headache of all things.

"Mom is working on something for you," Bra said in a hopeful tone, "Something to lessen the pain. It won't be a cure, but I think it will be a lot more manageable."

Malachi sighed at this. He couldn't help but be encouraged by this development. He never wanted to depend on drugs to make him feel better, but how did the saying go?—Never say never. They stayed like this for a while; quiet and enjoying being in each other's presence. He was beginning to doze off despite the incessant throbbing when he heard the door to the room open.

"Hey, Dad," Bra said softly, still remembering to keep her voice down.

Vegeta didn't take the hint. "How is he doing? Is he awake?" he asked with an air of impatience.

"No," Bra lied.

Malachi remained still under the covers thankful that she had somehow read his mind once again. He didn't feel like talking to anyone right then, but leastly Vegeta. She'd ceased her caressing and he was already missing it.

"Well, tell me when he does—I need to talk to him."

"About what?" Bra inquired.

"About what happened last night," he said as if it was obvious. "You saw it too, didn't you?"

"I don't know what I saw," she said back.

"Bra, he ascended—that's the only thing that makes sense. That's the only way I can explain what I felt out there."

"You seem pretty sure of yourself," Bra said thoughtfully. "What's there even to talk about?"

"I need to know if it was a fluke or if he can do that again."

"What if…I don't want him to attempt doing something like that again?"

Vegeta "hmphed" at her. "I don't believe that's a choice you can make for him."

"No it's not," she said with a sigh. "But is it a crime to not want him to end up like this all the time or always in pain? You just keep beating him up like he's some ragdoll. Even if he asks for it, why do you have to acquiesce every time? It's just one thing after the next and those headaches, what if it's just a symptom to a larger problem? I bet there's a reason this hasn't happened before with any other human and I really hope nothing bad comes of this."

"Only time will tell," Vegeta said who'd grown quiet after she spoke. Then he left though leaving the door open.

Her hand started up again and he was once again trying to relax. Then he heard Jensen's loud squeaky voice.

"Daddy!" he called out happily.

"Jensen, not so loud—daddy is trying to rest."

"Oh, sorry," he said in a whisper. "Can I join you?"

"Alright," she said giving in to the sweet boy.

Malachi heard small feet bounding over to them. He climbed on bed and planted himself squarely between him and Bra much to his annoyance.

"What have you been doing all day?" Bra asked him.

"Nothin'," he said sadly, "I'm bored."

"Maybe we need to get you some more toys," Bra said.

"That's alright—I have enough."

"Oh, you do?" Bra said in teasing tones.

"You mean there's nothing else out there that you would ever want to get?"

"Nothin' at all."

"We'll see how long that sentiment lasts. Now, hold on, I need to get Machi before she starts getting antsy."

Malachi sighed exasperatedly as Bra's presence disappeared from beside him.

"You're awake, aren't you?" Jensen said in secretive tones.

Malachi waited for a moment more, but then decided to answer. "I am," he said simply.

The lights were turned off in the room by now so when he lifted the covers once again, it wasn't nearly as bad as it could have been. He sat up slowly, but he was still a bit disoriented when he leaned back against the headboard.

"The headache again?" Jensen said quietly.

"The very same," he said wearily.

"Is that going to keep happening forever?" he asked.

"I hope not."

"Is it because of me?" Jensen asked worriedly.

"Even if it is, you had no way of knowing that this would happen. I don't think it's because of you though. I think it's because of Laputa. I'm just glad to be alive. I know I've been pushing myself too far lately. Every time I come face to face with death, I just plunge into it and someone's always there to save me. It would be naïve to think I'll keep getting that lucky."

"Do you think you're going to die soon?" Jensen questioned, but this time in an even quieter voice as if he barely wanted to say it.

"I've been asking myself that question ever since I was old enough to understand what death meant and that was quite early on," he said with a soft laugh. "I've never pictured myself dying of old age."

Just then, Bra stepped back in with a happy Machi cradled in her arms. She climbed back on the bed and the mood lightened once again. She smiled at Malachi probably noting his change of position.

"Can I hold her?" Jensen asked.

"Alright," Bra said, "But you have to be careful. Put your arms like I showed you."

"Don't worry, I'll be super careful," he said as he cradled his arms now.

Malachi watched as Bra gently placed Machi into Jensen's arms. She fit perfectly and she seemed no less happy there. Jensen looked quite delighted to be trusted with the bundle.

"So, are you my sister?" he asked to Machi. She smiled and giggled in response.

"That is a good question," Bra said, "But daddy hasn't seen fit to tie the knot. I guess he's waiting until we all die of old age."

Malachi grinned at her not so subtle hint. "It's not like we've had a moment's peace. And we've only just—"

"Do you love me or not?" Bra asked looking directly at him with challenging eyes.

"I do. More than anyone else in the world," he said. He never hesitated with such phrases and now was no different.

"Then what are you waiting for? Afraid I might say no?"

"No, of course not," he said finding himself unable to look away from her.

"You think I'm too fat for you now—am I not perfect in your eyes anymore?"

Malachi was slightly surprised by this. "No—what are you talking about? You're just as beautiful now as you've always been. Even more so," he finished as he leaned towards her. She followed his motions with a smile she couldn't quite hide. Their lips met affectionately and they pulled away from each other before getting carried away with Jensen being there. "Besides," he said finishing his thoughts, "I'm the one who's been gathering scars." Bra laughed at this.

"Sooooo," Jensen said dragging out the word, "Are you guys gonna' get married now?"

Bra was now grinning menacingly. "How about this, Jensen? Your dad has until the end of this week to make up his mind already or else I'm calling this whole thing off. I'm tired of waiting." Then she looked over at Malachi. "No pressure, of course."

"Of course," he said with a grin of his own accepting her challenge.

He hadn't until that moment realized how long it had been since he'd told her that he would ask for her hand in marriage. So many things had occurred since then that it was the furthest from his mind. This was a startling wake up call. They'd been acting as if the deed had been done ever since he'd been staying at this place. They already functioned like a family, why not make it official?

There was the small matter of obtaining an adequate ring, but other than that, he saw no foreseeable obstacles. Suddenly, at least in that moment, nothing else mattered. He would do the thing he had planned to do since he first laid eyes on her in the karaoke bar for better or worse.


	36. There's a Chance for Everybody

**It had been two days since that time Vegeta saw something he could hardly make sense of.** During that time, his mind was consumed with the deed and he bugged Bulma to death with questions he knew she couldn't answer. More research was required, she would tell him. They simply didn't have enough information. As cold and scientific as she could be at times, she was not willing to gather information from a guy who could hardly move from his bed. Malachi had seemed so powerful when he'd fought him on that fateful night certainly someone like that would be able to recover a bit quicker yet there he remained. Bra was guarding him like a hawk; he could not speak with him without her being nearby. Vegeta supposed he understood her vigilance, but it did little to help matters.

Today, however, was different. Bra had finally left his side, deciding Jensen was getting a bit stir-crazy from being in the house all the time so she announced that she was taking him to the playground—the large one that was nearly a thirty-minute drive to get to. By default, she would be taking Machi with her. Bulma decided to go with her and then at a strange turn of events, Bunny wanted to come along as well. It was practically a girl's day out were it not for Jensen. Vegeta declined their invitation which wasn't strange in itself, but he had an ulterior motive as well.

Vegeta wondered for a moment Bra's relationship with Jensen. He hadn't been there when she first met him nor when she either figured out or was told who he was. Jensen was practically a question mark and Bra seemed to have no qualms with him. She didn't seem to dote on him like she did Machi, but he'd not seen any tension between them. Jensen preferred Malachi for obvious reasons though it was uncanny all the same. Today, however, he'd been pried away from him by Bra herself. Perhaps they were still trying to get used to one another. Maybe her decision to take him out had an ulterior motive as well. Whatever was the case, it was good timing. Now he could approach Malachi without having to look over his shoulder.

He waited until the women were well on their way to their destination before he climbed the stairs and came to the room Malachi occupied. The door had been left open. Inside, Vegeta could see that the other was fully under the covers just as he had been the last time he'd attempted to speak to him. He was trembling as if one afraid, but it was a subtle movement. Vegeta sensed that he was awake despite what it seemed so he barked out his name successfully startling him with a jolt.

"What is it?" Malachi asked drily, his voice was somewhat muffled being under the covers.

"As if you don't know," Vegeta said with arms crossed, impatience creeping into his tone.

"No, seriously," he said back with obvious weariness.

"Save the act—I know you were awake last time."

"Hm, of course. Yet you decided to not push the issue."

"Unlike you, I know how to choose my battles," Vegeta retorted.

Vegeta was met with silence from the other indicating more than what words could have.

"Just leave me be—I have nothing to say to you," Malachi said after a while.

"You _will_ talk to me and you will do so not hiding away, but face to face to with me."

Vegeta received no further response from Malachi which irked him a bit. Who did he think he was as if ignoring him was even an option? He walked further into the room and attempted to pull the covers from him with no avail—he'd not been using much strength and clearly the other was actually holding them down. Having no patience for such things, he quickly ripped them off revealing a disheveled Malachi. Having no other options, Malachi finally looked up at him. He'd had his head buried into the pillow, but now he was sitting up with the sudden intrusion. His eyes were bloodshot and there were stains of old tears that ran down his face.

"You just can't take no for an answer, can you?" Malachi said in utter irritation with furrowed eyebrows.

Vegeta was taken aback by his appearance. He didn't look well, not even close. "Have you not been recovering at all?" he asked.

"I have," Malachi answered after a moment, "It's just…" He looked down and bowed his head as a hand reached up to press against his forehead clearly in pain. "I can't seem to get rid of it—it's always there day and night." His hand which held up his head shook ever so slightly. "I can hardly hear myself think for all the pain."

"I see," Vegeta said taking mercy on the man, "We'll talk later." He turned intending to leave, but he was stopped.

"No, wait," Malachi said with some urgency to his tone. Vegeta looked at the other once again. "You want to talk, then let's do it. It would be a nice…distraction. Ask me anything."

Vegeta watched the other for a moment. He looked incredibly fatigued along with his reddened eyes and the evidence of tears being shed. It was indicative of someone who had not found restful sleep for a while. Malachi had raised his head and now looked at him unabashedly. "That time when we sparred the first time, you kept going on and on about a plan you wanted to adhere to—what _was_ the plan?"

Malachi grinned at the other. "I was bluffing. There was no elaborate plan. I'd never seen you fight before so there was no way I could anticipate what I was in for. I just wanted to know how strong I'd become. I felt that things had changed within me and there was only one way to find out if it was true. I needed to know."

"Changed in what way?" Vegeta pushed.

"Laputa's presence physically changed me in more ways than one. He was so…powerful. I'd never felt anything like it. When he was gone, that feeling never left. I suppose I was compensating, but I couldn't be sure. It was all suppositions until I could fight someone like you."

Malachi leaned against the backboard with closed eyes. Vegeta wondered if it was a good idea to keep grilling the other, but he seemed willing, at least now he did. "So that entire thing was based off of a hunch?"

"A good hunch," Malachi said with another grin, "One that would bother me if I never tested it out."

The man was reckless, but that wasn't news to Vegeta. He'd known it on the day he'd visited him in the hospital after Bra's mishap. He'd known it on the day he showed him his Super Saiyan form. "And that stunt you pulled during dinner—just another hunch you're working off of," Vegeta stated matter-of-factly.

"I can't really recall what was going through my head, just that I didn't want you to hold back and that I wanted to prove you wrong." He spoke still with his eyes closed.

"If you wanted to, could you recreate what you did during that fight? Or do you remember it at all?"

"Oh, I remember it," Malachi said. "Now I do. But it's hard to process everything. I don't even think it's possible as I am now. But, yes, that feeling, whatever you want to call it, I could most certainly do it again. I mean, I think I can though I haven't tried. I can just…picture it in my head."

"A reassuring answer if ever I heard one," Vegeta said with subtle sarcasm.

"If I can do it once, I can do it again, right? Isn't that how it goes? But…even if it is possible, I'm not sure if I would _want_ to go through with it again."

"Cold feet?"

Malachi gave a short laugh. "It's just that…I don't think I'm in complete control of myself. I don't like that. I've spent so long with it being that way—I'm in no rush to have that happen again. As a last resort, I might consider it, but other than that…"

Vegeta had a feeling that this was the case, but hearing it from Malachi himself confirmed his suspicions. There were so many unknowns. Perhaps it was better to simply leave the whole thing be. But morbid curiosity wondered what Malachi was now capable of doing and how long he could hold such a form.

"Was there anything else, you wanted to know?" Malachi asked when the other was silent for some time.

"I'm done," Vegeta said singularly this time really intending to exit the room.

"Good," Malachi said with a sigh.

It didn't take him long to move back under the covers and there Vegeta suspected the other would remain for a good part of the day. Judging from the state he had found him in earlier, he likely wouldn't fall asleep—it was a miserable existence that Vegeta did not envy.

The house was quiet now and it was a rare occurrence these days. The gravitron still was out of commission so nothing immediate came to his mind when he thought of something to do. He made his way downstairs to the living room, but after only a minute he realized he was in no mood to watch television. Then he remembered a book he'd managed to pick up a while a go by a certain Terri McLaughlin; the third book in a series that he'd admittedly been waiting for. He hadn't gotten around to reading it as he was either not in the mood or otherwise preoccupied. This seemed like the perfect time.

Vegeta made himself a simple sandwich from the kitchen and then found a quiet place in one of the many sunrooms at the estate to read the book. This being a little over three-hundred pages in medium font, he supposed he could finish it in one sitting given enough time and depending on when everyone came back home.

He wasn't sure how many hours passed before his cell started ringing, but he'd at least made it halfway through the book. This time, he did pay attention to the caller ID.

"Speak of the devil," Vegeta said to himself before he answered the call. "Yes?"

"Hi, Vegeta," came the cheerful voice of Terri McLaughlin. "It's been so long and I wasn't sure if I should call you."

"Did something happen?" Vegeta asked before she got carried away. He was already starting to get a bad feeling from her impromptu call.

"Well," she began with the first hint of hesitancy, "First of all, thanks for helping him out with the interviews—that was really helpful. For everyone, really."

"Is that right?" Vegeta said to her with mild interest.

"Oh, yeah," she confirmed enthusiastically, "So far, I haven't heard him mention anything about it so I guess all is well there."

"Then what is the purpose of your call?" Vegeta asked hoping that he'd actually kept the impatience from his tone. At the very least, he was a little interested in what Trunks was up to these days. Keeping in contact with him was often a chore or pretty much impossible. Were it not for Terri calling, he'd really have no connection to his life whatsoever—an unsettling thought.

"Ah, well, you see, Trunks and I, we've been spending a lot more time together. I thought it would be a good idea if we joined you guys for dinner this evening. I didn't want to just show up and I haven't suggested it to Trunks yet, but would you be…interested?"

Vegeta wasn't exactly used to setting up things like this. For some reason, Terri had felt the need to ask him of all people as if he was the final say on whether this should happen or not. She'd placed the decision in his hands and he simply rolled with it as if it were a normal thing. He hadn't seen Trunks in a while and it would be nice to have him over, but there were other things he had to consider, namely Malachi who likely wasn't on good terms with him.

"Fine," Vegeta said tiring of his thoughts that were only complicating matters. "But it's just me and Malachi here. Everyone else decided to go out."

"Oh, I see," she said thoughtfully. "Hmmm….I heard Malachi could cook, well, actually Bra told me before. Do you think—

"He won't be feeling up to it," Vegeta said cutting across her. "Better off just ordering something or going elsewhere."

"That's perfect," Terri said with, Vegeta could only imagine, a smile. "There's a new restaurant that just opened up that I've been dying to try out. We could go there. And it's not far from you. How about we meet up at your place?"

"That's fine with me," Vegeta said.

"Great! I'll text you if all goes well. He'll be home soon."

Vegeta hung up after this, but wondered if he should have said something further before doing so. It was too late anyway. He'd already said he was fine with her plans—that should be enough. Funny, how they were making plans and neither of them had yet to ask the other participating party.

He closed his book and headed off to Malachi's room once again to see if his condition had improved at all. Whatever he found, however, Vegeta was fairly certain he'd agree to needing to eat. Coming to think about it, Malachi likely hadn't eaten anything at all that day.

The door was open and the room was dark. Malachi was once again not asleep but his position had not changed from under the comforters.

"You hungry?" Vegeta asked loud enough for the other to hear.

"…Maybe," Malachi said back not even attempting to raise his voice. "But I don't feel like—"

"We're going somewhere with Terri and Trunks."

Malachi took another long moment to respond. "What?"

"Get dressed. They'll probably be here soon."

"Okay," Malachi answered with an exasperated sigh. "I'll be out there…soon enough."

That was all the confirmation Vegeta needed before he left the other to his own devices. He didn't exactly feel like returning to the book so he moved downstairs and finally turned on the television for the first time that day. He couldn't decide on what he wanted to watch so he flicked through channel after channel. He didn't look up when he heard Malachi traversing down the stairs nor when he joined him in the living room though opting to stand up instead of sitting down on the couch with him.

"Discovery channel?" Malachi suggested after a while of watching how indecisive he was.

Vegeta didn't respond, but when he went through all the channels again, he stopped on this one. That was when Vegeta afforded the other a glance and he was immediately taken aback. Malachi was wearing a green scarf obscuring most of his hair, tufts of it hung from the sides. His eyes were blue instead of black and he wore a white T-shirt beneath black jacket and blue jeans. Catching the other looking, Malachi afforded him a grin. Not only was he hiding his identity, but also the bandages he wore underneath likely trying to avoid talking about it to anyone else. On Vegeta's part, he simply looked at him with a raised eyebrow, but then returned to the television.

"You feeling any better?" Vegeta asked.

"Well enough. Besides, I'm starving," Malachi answered.

They had surprisingly little to say to one another, but it wasn't too much more longer before the doorbell was rung—Terri had forgotten to text him it seemed, then again, he wasn't exactly used to that sort of thing. Malachi tailed him though not closely as he went to answer the door. Sensing it was them behind the door, Vegeta opened it wide and unabashedly.

"Good evening!" Terri said happily before anyone else which was just as well since it quickly broke the awkward air between all of them and perhaps she knew this in advance.

Trunks stood beside her dressed in a business casual attire with hands in pocket. He hadn't changed his hair since he'd last seen him, remaining in the same style he'd worn since he was a child. "Hello, Father, Malachi," he said as his eyes went from him to Malachi who now stood beside him.

Trunks was taller than him, but matched Malachi's height. Trunks' eyes stayed on Malachi the longest probably caught off guard by his get-up.

"Likewise," Malachi said answering their greetings. "No need to draw unwanted attention," Malachi said promptly with a smile when he noticed Trunks looking.

"Right. Because a scarf doesn't scream that you're trying to hide something."

"Maybe you should get out more, friend, if you think scarves are always worn to hide something," Malachi countered easily. This granted the other an annoyed looked from Trunks. Terri's smile seemed to have a permanent fixture on her face and it was starting to look a bit forced.

Vegeta was already starting to second guess his decision to do any of this as he noticed things already starting off on the wrong foot. He'd agreed because he'd wanted to see his son. At the very least, he'd accomplished this.

"What's this restaurant you wanted to go to?" Vegeta asked wanting to get this over with already.

"It's a fusion restaurant and it's highly rated so far," Terri said with delight in her voice, "It's in that new shopping center they opened up in West City."

"Good, somewhere close," Malachi said, "Let's go before we all drop dead from starvation."

"Always the dramatic one," Trunks said. "Might as well fly there."

In fact, they did wound up flying there instead of using a car. Trunks had flown Terri to their house anyways. They would have had to squeeze into one of Bulma's cars if they desperately wanted to use a vehicle. Vegeta kept an eye on Malachi but he seemed to have enough energy to keep up with them. They flew at a leisurely pace for Terri's sake. At the moment, she wore black jean capris and a flowery blouse with long flowing bell sleeves instead of a dress which would not have been conducive for flying.

This being the middle of the week, the restaurant wasn't crowded and they were shown to their seats upon stepping inside. Trunks sat beside Terri and Vegeta beside Malachi by default. Their menus were placed on the table by the waitress soon after. Terri was the first to pick up hers still trying to exude a pleasant air hoping it might change the atmosphere. Trunks, however, seemed more interested in Malachi than anyone else.

"You two are still training," Trunks stated matter-of-factly.

"Why? Does it bother you?" Malachi said back smoothly.

"No, I was only curious. I suppose you've given my father some hobby to pass the time."

"Tch, hobby?" Malachi repeated just when the waitress came back inquiring what their drinks would be.

Malachi and Vegeta opted for some water, but Trunks ordered a Coke and Terri ordered something a bit stronger. The restaurant had a friendly, welcoming air. Vegeta could tell from the pricing or lack thereof on the menu that it was upscale. Music was playing overhead and it sounded like something one might hear off the radio. Vegeta suspected that these were simply popular songs that a good number of people knew. When his eyes passed over the place, he began to notice that every table featured a small device which allowed one to choose the next song playing overhead. He'd never seen the like, but Vegeta supposed that this was how the restaurant was trying to standout from all the others.

Just then, a Malachi song started playing. Vegeta knew immediately because he recognized his distinct voice—his singing style was unlike anything Vegeta had heard from his own growing collection of music. Malachi was one of a kind. But Vegeta need not even know that it was his song on at the moment, because Malachi's smile was proud and bright.

"Of course," Trunks said entirely unamused by the coincidence.

"How was work?" Terri asked trying to change the subject as the song continued to play in the background.

"I don't want to talk about that," Trunks said looking over at her. "But you knew that already—I say the same thing every time."

"Yeah, I know," Terri said leveling with him, "But I didn't suggest we come all the way out here just so you can be in a pissy mood the whole time. So excuse me for trying to lighten the mood."

"How was _your_ work today?" Malachi asked to Terri before Trunks could respond. "I heard that you're an author?"

Heard was putting it lightly, Vegeta thought to himself. He was quite sure that Malachi possessed her entire collections of works in his personal library.

"I am. I'm always writing, always researching, and always staring at a computer screen. I'm sure that must sound pretty boring to a guy like you, but I do enjoy what I do. I made good progress today."

"To each their own is what I say especially if it makes you happy," Malachi said, "You ever take any breaks from all that writing?"

"I do, anytime Trunks deems it necessary to visit me," she said with a smile giving Trunks a playful nudge.

The waitress came back with their drinks. Vegeta noted that their water was ice cold and it tasted quite fresh. Dinner was off to a good start as far as Vegeta was concerned. He'd said nothing since he came in and he still had nothing to add. He simply observed the other three. For whatever reason despite the awkwardness of the situation and the tension, he felt at ease. He was utterly unbothered by what was taking place. Malachi was being Malachi and Trunks, well, he was being just like he'd been at the party. Perhaps it had something to do with his proximity to Malachi…

As Malachi's song ended, another one of his songs began much to Trunks irritation—it was written all over his face. It did much to bolster Malachi's already inflated confidence.

"I've always wanted to ask you," Terri began as Trunks simply sat back in his seat. "Do you ever write your own music?"

"Me?" Malachi asked, "Not very often. There's so many other people that are really good with that sort of thing—I tend to refer to them and there are a lot of songwriters all too eager to share their ideas with me."

"Oh, I bet," Terri said with a laugh, "You're never lack of new songs to make."

"The hard part is having a theme, a vision that you want to present to everyone. Everything has to make sense, but not too much sense."

"I'm not sure I understand, but I'm not the one who does that for a living," she said.

"It becomes less about does everything sound good on paper and more about does it sound right with the music, do the vocals fit, things like that."

"I can't imagine all that coming together easily," Terri commented.

"Sometimes it does. Sometimes everything just clicks. Just like for you, I assume, some days are better than others."

"Art in a nutshell," she said with a grin. "Yet if you want to make a living off of it, sometimes you don't have the luxury of waiting for everything to click. There's deadlines, there's everyone else's expectations, there's making sure you're even satisfied with what you've made."

"Hmm, that last part sometimes has to take a backseat to everything else," Malachi said sagely.

"Are you _not_ satisfied with your own music?" Terri asked curiously.

"I wouldn't say that. Only that perhaps things don't always turn out the way I want it to. I remember a particular song I detested at first—which I won't name—ended up growing on me especially after radio had their way with it. What about you?"

"My publisher is pretty lenient with me after the success of my previous series so I pretty much have free reign over what I write. The moment they try to shortchange me, however, I'll have someone else publish. It's so easy to get that done these days and I think they know that."

"Must be nice having so much control."

"Do you not?" she asked.

"There are a lot of working parts. Many people that I have to work with, many who I prefer to work with which in some ways limits what I actually can do."

"You ever thought of starting your own recording label?" she asked in a slightly lower volume.

"More than once, but the one I'm with hasn't pissed me off enough to do that."

"I wonder," Terri said thoughtfully, "If it wouldn't make more sense to do something like that while you're at the peak of popularity. Timing is everything as they say."

"Ms. McLaughlin, didn't realize you were an expert in the entertainment industry—maybe I should hire you on."

Terri laughed at this. "Sorry, have I overstepped my boundaries?"

Malachi didn't look overly annoyed so Vegeta hardly thought the other was offended. Trunks was utterly unconcerned with the entire conversation. One would have thought business talk would be right down his alley.

"Not at all," Malachi said smoothly, "But what about you? Why haven't you taken advantage of the E-book market? I've only ever seen hardback editions of your works."

She smiled as if she'd just discovered something, "Why, I had no idea you were such a fan. You're right; I only want printed copies of my stories to be sold."

"Why is that?" Malachi asked.

"Because that's the best way to experience them. Quality ink and paper is used for every book and I especially love the binding. I take great care with the way my books are made."

"Something against technology?" Malachi asked.

"Well, maybe only a little. Experiencing a book is far better than reading it from a screen."

"I see," Malachi said thoughtfully, "Meanwhile, you're limiting your potential audience. Does it matter so much the tactile experience or the passing of your words onto others? If it's the latter, then perhaps your personal preference is denying an entire section of people who either cannot or will not buy hard copies."

"Cannot?" Terri asked suspiciously, "If you can get an E-book, then you can get a real book."

"What about the libraries that do not have copies of your books? What about the person who cannot afford it or who would have no place to put a book once bought? Let me tell you this, however," he began with a grin, "you're encouraging others to pirate or otherwise profit from your works. It wouldn't take much effort to simply upload the story and resell it as an E-book. Even people who want the legal version of it wouldn't be able to as it doesn't exist."

"I hadn't thought of it like that. I just want everyone to have the best product possible."

"I can tell you take great pride in your work. I had to go out of my way to find actual legal copies of your book. You realize bookstores are far and few in between and libraries now have more access to E-books than to actual books. Devices that can access E-books are dirt cheap so people prefer this way of experiencing books. It might even be safe to say that it's the standard way that the vast majority of people read leisurely."

Terri's eyes had widened at this. "Now who's the expert in a completely unrelated industry?"

"Did I overstep my boundaries, Ms. McLaughlin?" he asked with the beginnings of a grin.

"Oh, please, just call me Terri—everyone else does. How about this? I might consider changing things if you consider what I suggested."

"Fair enough," he said, "It wouldn't be a terrible move if I suddenly started my own label. Other artists with far less prestige have done so successfully. The difficulty would be in finding other talent for the label and I've not come across anyone like that lately."

Just then another Malachi song was played soon after the one playing ended. This drew an exasperated sigh from Trunks. Vegeta, in fact, knew all the music selections that had been played so far, but he certainly wouldn't be disclosing this fact to them. Malachi didn't need to think any more highly of himself. At times, he was quite full of himself and sitting down in a restaurant listening to a nonstop stream of his own music that other random people had chosen was not helping matters.

While they'd been talking, he'd picked up the menu and started browsing through it. Nothing looked familiar. He'd looked through the entirety of the menu thrice before realizing this.

"Does anyone have any idea what these dishes are?" Vegeta finally asked.

"Not at all," Trunks answered. He'd been looking through the menu as well.

"It's a fusion restaurant, guys," Terri explained. "It's combining the two or more cuisines to make something completely different."

"I guess the descriptions are all we have to work with," Malachi said who had just then opened his menu.

Vegeta hadn't run into too many foods that he didn't like so he decided on something completely random that he could barely pronounce and he suspected the other three did the same. The waitress came over soon after and they quickly gave her their order. Another song from Malachi's vast selection was played and Vegeta wasn't personally put off by this, however, he was quite aware of Trunks growing irritation.

"Careful, you may not be able to fit out the door with how big your head must be getting," Trunks said to the grinning Malachi.

"Hey, I didn't choose the venue or the music playing. Why don't you just request something different? I think every table can pick something."

"I did, ages ago," Trunks replied, "Everyone else must have had the same idea well before I ever stepped in."

Malachi could only shrug at the other.

"I'm surprised no one's recognized you at this point—a poor disguise if you ask me," Trunks said.

"It's the subtle changes that count. Besides, no one would think I'd actually be here eating."

While they waited for the food, they listened to several more songs, two of which was not one of Malachi's; it did little to ease Trunks' frustration.

"I swear, if another one of your songs come on…" Trunks said almost to himself, but he didn't finish the sentence.

There were a number of things Trunks could do in this instance being a Saiyan. Vegeta imagined his irate son completely demolishing the nearby speakers. Though Trunks had never been one to do things rashly, all sense was thrown out the window if he was annoyed enough. Vegeta waited for the other's breaking point. Trunks, as did he, sat on the outside; he could easily get out of the booth.

The food seemed to be taking an exorbitantly long time to come out. It was a full house despite there not being a line to get in. They must have come in at the right time before the crowd came. Terri's salad came and she wound up being the only one with something to eat. She offered her plate to the other three, but they declined. Vegeta didn't feel like dealing with a meager portion of salad and opted to wait for the main course. He'd already finished his water twice.

Then another song by Malachi came on. Vegeta looked over at Trunks who was quickly unraveling the folded napkin that held the silverware. This was one of the songs that had an instrumental intro that went on for over a minute, Vegeta knew exactly which song this was. He wasn't sure what Trunks was going to do, but certainly not what he did next.

Using the handle of the fork as a microphone, he started singing right when the verse finally began after he climbed out of the booth. Though the restaurant was more high-end, it was a small personable area with only a few booths and tables perfect for Trunks' sudden need for some vocal exercise. Vegeta was too stunned to do more than stare as his son held nothing back. This was not karaoke, but something a bit more serious.

 _There's a chance for everybody  
So I took my chance on loving you (no!)  
Just no one man can make you happy  
You wanna have your cake and eat it too (ho!) _

He knew all the words and along with that, he seemed to know all of Malachi's mannerisms. It was a smooth mid-tempo song; one that could easily get stuck in someone's head. Other people were at first surprised, but then they quickly warmed to him with shouts of approval. By the time, he got to the hook, Vegeta was able to move again.

 _You won't give up your Buttercup  
You say you love too but one is givin' up  
'Cause he can't stay  
You won't give up your Buttercup  
You're plenty for one, but two you're not enough  
So I can't stay (oh!)  
Rump pump pa, pumpah pah dahbah _

If Vegeta had less control of himself, he might have started clicking his fingers, but he didn't. Terri did that for him. As for Malachi, his eyes were fixated on Trunks as if he was analyzing the entire spur of the moment endeavor in a petri dish. Vegeta couldn't be sure if he was actually enjoying it at all.

 _I've a right to my opinion  
Feeling we'd be better, off as friends (ho!)  
'Cause you can make no one man happy  
When you're spreading yourself much too thin (ho!)_

People were clapping their hands with the song as it was clear that Trunks was going to sing the entire song. He didn't miss a beat and he didn't seem at all uncomfortable—as if this was something he did on his free time. He didn't stay in one spot, he made sure that everyone was able to get a good view of him. Vegeta wasn't sure if anyone was even concerned about the slow food service at the moment and the waiters and waitresses seemed to be at a standstill to watch the spectacle. Trunks went right back into the hook and this time everyone else had joined in as well. Clearly, the audience was filled with people who knew the song well enough to know at least this part. There wasn't always a third verse, but when there was people tended to know this one the most.

 _There's a chance for even losers  
'Cause I will find a love that's pure someday (ho!)  
You will be the one who's bluer  
Because your game of love, no one will play_

Then the hook went on twice more. All the while, the innocent bystanders now actively engaged in this grew more and more raucous as they were able to shout off the hook more than once. By the time, it got to the last part of the song, Trunks could hardly be heard over all the noise. When it was all over, he thanked the receptive crowd for indulging in his antics and graciously sat down again amongst his flabbergasted group. Ironically, the next song played was non-Malachi related and Vegeta had a feeling they'd finally reached the end of a long span of Malachi songs that people had requested. Terri was smiling from ear to ear and gave him an approving kiss on the cheeks before taking it upon herself to embrace him wholeheartedly.

"Where the hell did that come from?" Malachi asked with an unamused look on his face.

Vegeta knew immediately, that Malachi must not have enjoyed any of what just happened.

"Oh, lighten up!" Terri said cheerfully. "We were all having a little fun—I think even Vegeta liked it."

Vegeta decided not to make a comment opting instead to look as annoyed as possible.

Malachi's expression had not changed as he looked over at Trunks. "You expect me to believe that you've suddenly taken time out of your life to learn all the words to that song and notice all the nuances? That was pretty much pitch perfect, by the way. Mr. I'm-too-busy-to-call-my-sister has time to do all of that? I doubt it."

"Malachi, jealousy doesn't become you," Trunks said after Malachi finished his explanation. "Maybe things just come easy to me."

"Or maybe you're not who you say you are," Malachi said back darkly.

"You're losing me," Trunks replied, "But then I guess I shouldn't be surprised," he said with an amused look.

"Don't try to play it off anymore—I know who you are," Malachi bit out.

"Oh, well, do tell," Trunks said in a confused tone. He glanced over at Terri who only shrugged.

Right before Malachi opened his mouth to answer the other, Vegeta realized what he was getting at and immediately he disagreed.

"Laputa, you've chosen your new host," Malachi said slapping a hand on the table and then standing up.

Both Trunks and Terri stared at him flabbergasted.

Vegeta very easily pushed Malachi back down. "Trust me, I think you've missed the mark on that one. What proof do you have? The last time this happened to you, it was very obvious."

"That was last time," Malachi frowned with crossed arms, "Obviously, he's gotten more acquainted with us, with earthlings in general. He's someone who's always learning—you think he'd do it the same way as last time if _you_ already know about it? That wouldn't be a great idea on his part."

"What are you two talking about?" Terri asked.

"Laputa," Trunks said singularly, "You told me about him," he said indicating Vegeta. "You think I've been 'taken over' somehow. Let me assure you—that is not the case." Vegeta was looking at him now. "I've not seen or felt anything out of the ordinary. Whatever Laputa is doing now, I have no idea."

"Please," Malachi spat, "You'd say anything to keep up your charades. The real question is, why do you feel the need to hide if you already have someone like Trunks? There must be something or someone that you're after."

Trunks expression remained amused. "Are you really going to keep carrying on like that?"

Malachi sat back in the seat. "Yes," he said stubbornly.

Vegeta began to secretly consider what Malachi was saying as he began to pay closer attention to Trunks' ki signature. He knew it quite intimately to the point that he could pinpoint his mood and condition. He seemed genuinely annoyed sprinkled with a bit of fear. Such findings were inconclusive. Perhaps being accused so openly could be fear inducing if one considered what was done with Malachi once he was taken over. But nothing felt out of place with Trunks.

"Father, you can't really be considering him," Trunks said as he must have noticed him gazing at him a bit more intensely than usual.

"Laputa is an unknown and we should consider all possibilities, but…" Vegeta paused as he analyzed the other further though still not finding any red flags. "Everything appears fine."

"That's just what he wants you to think," Malachi continued. "He already had a good working knowledge about Saiyans and he knows that you can sense ki. He's an expert in manipulating ki and tricking the senses—I should know."

"This is ridiculous," Trunks said with a laugh, "You have an answer for everything, don't you? With your logic, you can trick yourself into thinking _everybody_ is possessed by this Laputa."

"Maybe you're not too far from the truth," Malachi answered.

"Guys," Terri said cutting into the conversation, "Why don't we just enjoy this evening together without thinking somebody's going to wantonly kill the next person? Doesn't my opinion count for anything? I've gotten to know Trunks quite a bit since we've been together, and I'm certain nothing's amiss. Trunks is just a closet fan of yours." Trunks looked away embarrassed at her proclamation. "Is _that_ so hard to believe instead of jumping to farfetched conclusions?"

"Alright," Malachi said as his gaze stayed on Trunks, "Let's enjoy this evening—you're bound to slip up again, Laputa."

"Is this really what you have to deal with on a regular basis?" Trunks said with an exasperated sigh to Vegeta.

"He gives my patience a nice workout almost every day," Vegeta said back with a grin.

Just then their waitress arrived at their table to set out all their dishes. Each one was thankfully huge and steamy hot. As soon as they gave their thanks to the lady serving them, they all dug in without question. Terri was the odd man out when it came to eating. She went at her own pace and hoped she didn't hold them there for too long. She need not worry, however, because they collectively ordered two more of the same dish. As for Vegeta, he finished his plates in record time and then decided this was a decent meal, enough so that it sated his appetite. Vegeta looked about himself and noticed that Trunks and Malachi seemed to be in some sort of eating contest as one tried to finish the food off faster than the other. In the end, Trunks won and Malachi called it quits when he decided he couldn't fully go through the third helping.

They didn't stay too much longer after this. Trunks paid for Terri and Vegeta and Malachi had separate checks. Food was a good distraction. Vegeta noted that Trunks was in a far brighter mood and Terri was just as bubbly as ever. Malachi wasn't nearly as talkative, but Vegeta knew the other was fighting falling asleep right at the table.

The flight back to the Capsule Corp residence was just as uneventful as the flight out. Malachi was dragging behind and Vegeta kept an eye on him just in case he started plummeting through the sky to his untimely death. Once there, Vegeta noted the lack of cars in the driveway; the women and Jensen hadn't come back yet. By then, it was getting to ten o'clock in the evening.

They migrated to the dining room and lost Malachi along the way when he decided to take a seat in the living room as opposed to joining them. It was probably for the best—he didn't seem in the mood for conversation. Terri suggested a toast for an overall successful venture and eventually they each had tumblers in their hands. Vegeta was just enough in a good mood to consider joining them.

"Hm, take this to poor Malachi," Trunks said to Terri. He'd made a glass for him, but he smartly decided it would be better if she gave it to him.

"Alright, I'll be right back," Terri said cheerfully.

"Geez, does everyone always stay out this late?" Trunks said in an amused tone.

"I've been monitoring their ki levels—they're fine if not a bit exhausted," Vegeta answered.

"Just a spur of the moment thing, huh? They probably went shopping then," he said with a chortle. "Dragging those kids along as well."

He was probably right. It was long since established that Bulma was not the only shopaholic in the family. She'd inherited it from Bunny and it was passed down to Bra. It didn't bother him as much as it had in the past. As long as it brought a smile to Bulma's face, he was satisfied. Speaking of smiles, tomorrow would likely be a good day to mention the gravitron debacle. He might even avoid her ranting altogether if she was distracted enough with new clothes.

"Ugh, fine, we were just trying to be nice," Vegeta heard Terri's frustrated voice say from the living room.

Trunks looked at Vegeta knowingly and then shrugged as if to say "I tried and I'm done". Terri stepped back into the dining room with a smile on her face determined to not let her mood be ruined.

"Why don't you do the honors, Terri," Trunks suggested.

She raised her glass up, the other two did the same. "Here's to a salvageable evening in spite of and I hope to have many more with you and everyone else," she said as she smiled infectiously—it was enough to draw even a grin from Vegeta.

Vegeta wasn't altogether familiar with this custom, but he knew at least to tap the cups against everyone else's. There wasn't a lot poured into the cups so they finished them off quickly. Soon after since it was getting late, Terri and Trunks took their leave. Despite himself, he watched their departure into the sky as he looked through the blinds of the front window. Then he began to make his way to his bedroom stopping at the living room along the way.

Malachi was fast asleep. His head was bowed, hair spilling onto his face and his body was quite still almost not breathing. His ki was weak as well, but it was nothing that couldn't be explained away with exhaustion and his utter lack of sleep. Just like he did before, he felt some pity on the man and moved him into a more comfortable positon on the couch—he didn't plan on taking him back up to his room. Perhaps alcohol in this case was helpful in this situation. His tumbler was empty. This time, Vegeta received no feedback or random mumblings, he simply stayed there in his positon completely unaware of everything and everybody.

Vegeta knew the other was still in pain and probably more than what he was letting on. Perhaps, Vegeta thought further as he made his way upstairs, it could account for his sour moods as of late.

* * *

 **AN** : Got a new laptop! Or more like my friend let me have her old one 'cus she just bought a new one for herself. Either way, I'm so excited. The keyboard even works without issue. I was struggling on my old one. Anyways, this chapter—I was blushing so hard trying to write this one. I'm still blushing right now at the spontaneous Trunks part. I'll be back next week, ladies and gentlemen with a brand spanking new chapter!

 **Wildheart44:** Didn't respond to you on the last chapter—I totally uploaded it through my cellphone. I'd already written the chapter, but my laptop was literally dead and I just wanted to post it already. Hardcore Wildheart is back, I see. "He better suck it up and start adapting." I died laughing after reading that. But still, sound advice, I'd say. As for what happened in the last chapter when Malachi and Vegeta was fighting—more to be explained later.


	37. Crumbling Foundation

**Vegeta missed the point in which Bulma joined him that night, but she was beside him by the time he woke up the very next morning.** Clearly it had been a long night for her and the others she'd gone out with yesterday. She was quite unresponsive when he made all the noise in the world getting up. He didn't expect Bunny to be up either which meant no large cooked breakfast would be waiting for him downstairs.

Just as Vegeta was making his way out the room after his usual morning routine, Jensen came running down the hall from his room. The kid was entirely too awake for someone who was probably up all night.

"Vegeta!" the boy shouted loudly—Vegeta cringed at all the noise he was already making—"I can't find him! I can't find Daddy!"

"You will lower your voice," Vegeta ordered the other.

Jensen who currently donned a nightgown covered in cat print looked down at his feet once, gulped and then looked back up at him. "Sorry," he said quietly. At closer inspection, Vegeta noticed the telltale signs of someone who was ready to start crying, his eyes were brimming with moisture. "I can't find Daddy anywhere—he's not in his room."

"He's downstairs," Vegeta said simply before making his way around the trembling boy.

"Okay," Jensen said as he followed the other closely behind.

Vegeta took his sweet time traversing the steps marveling at how concerned Jensen was right then. It seemed almost unnatural. As far as he knew, Jensen hadn't known Malachi for very long and he doubted in that time they'd actually bonded as much as Jensen made it seem. In fact, Vegeta could scarcely remember a time when Malachi had anything nice to say about him. He sensed an overall air of utter annoyance from Malachi concerning Jensen. It was something Vegeta didn't quite understand, but he supposed an overly clingy child could be a bit trying for someone who wasn't used to it and Jensen had come to him under strange circumstances.

When they made it downstairs and he led the boy to the living room, Vegeta noticed immediately that Malachi was not there.

"Well, he's not where I left him last night," Vegeta commented looking down at the empty couch. His tumbler from last night was still there.

"Do you think he's been kidnapped?" Jensen asked worriedly.

Vegeta looked over at the child with a raised eyebrow genuinely curious as to why he would jump to such conclusions. "What would make you think that?"

Jensen looked at him for a moment and then walked over to the same table that held the glass. Beside it was Malachi's cellphone which Jensen picked up. "He never goes anywhere without this," he insisted, "And he's always around in the morning—and I don't think he likes getting up early to do things."

"Sure, I suppose that's good deduction, but who would do that in the middle of the night? No alarms were set off and there doesn't appear to be a struggle. Even if someone has their habits, that doesn't mean it's impossible for one to deviate from it. And if anyone is wont to do that, it would be Malachi," Vegeta said carefully.

Jensen looked at the other thoughtfully. "So…he'll be back?"

"I wouldn't worry about it," Vegeta said as he turned. "In the meantime, I'm getting some breakfast."

Vegeta heard the other following behind him as he made his way to the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator and examined the well-stocked shelves. It put him at ease, but he knew he could hardly do much with anything. Eggs were appropriate for breakfast, but he'd never been good at cooking them and he did not want to be responsible for cleaning up a mess. There was a glass container of milk that sat deliciously cold in the front and a large pack of thick sliced bacon that lay in the clear bottom trays. Sometimes his inability to make anything vaguely serviceable as food was quite annoying. He secretly admired all those who had a talent for it—it certainly required the kind of skill he could never fully acquire.

"I can make us some scrambled eggs and bacon if you want," Jensen volunteered. He'd stepped in close beside him to see the contents of the refrigerator.

"You can do that without burning down the kitchen?" Vegeta asked quizzically.

"Yep. Daddy showed me," he answered confidently.

Vegeta moved aside so that the other could grab the necessary ingredients. He even grabbed some others like green onions and cheddar cheese likely for the scrambled eggs. Jensen was just tall enough to reach the cutting board which he used to cut up the green onions. He couldn't reach the black pepper and salt set further back; Vegeta silently moved them closer when he saw the other struggling. He was just able to reach the stove knobs that controlled the temperature. Then he grabbed the necessary pans. Three eyes were for the pans that would have bacon and one for all the scrambled eggs. Vegeta took a bowl down knowing the other couldn't. With another word of thanks from Jensen, he slowly cracked a few eggs into it and stirred them up. He'd seen Bulma do these steps quite a few times so he knew the boy's stirring technique wasn't exactly seasoned but he got the job done. He threw in some salt and pepper before tossing the cut green onions into the pan. He took out the bacon and laid them carefully into the first pan. Seeing that the other would have some trouble with the two back ones, Vegeta copied the same procedure in the other ones.

In this way, the two were able to put together a decent breakfast. The bacon was cooked perfectly the way he liked it and the eggs were light and fluffy. However inexperienced Jensen might have been, he understood the underlying technique. Of course, Vegeta took the lion's share of what was made, but Jensen wasn't exactly hungry as he seemed to pick over his plate.

"What if he doesn't come back?" Jensen asked in a quiet voice.

Vegeta was virtually done with his food when the other said this. He watched the other with Malachi's cellphone in his hand absently switching screens back and forth. "You have that, don't you," Vegeta said referring to the phone. Jensen looked up and nodded at him. "And you told me he doesn't go anywhere without it. I'm sure he'll be back for it soon if nothing else."

His eyes seemed to brighten a little. "You're right. If I keep this, then he's sure to come looking for it." He used his other hand to sweep a bit of the egg onto his fork. "Hey…" Jensen said slowly, "You're not really as bad as they say."

"You caught me at a good time," Vegeta said back.

"So…you're a morning person?"

"Once upon a time, I used to always get up at the crack of dawn to start training. Not anymore, I guess. And the gravitron needs some "major" repairs."

"The crack of dawn? Yuck," Jensen said.

"Sometimes even that didn't keep the day from slipping away from me," Vegeta said distantly. "Now, however, a day could go on forever."

Jensen shoveled more egg into his mouth. Vegeta supposed the other wasn't too concerned about manners if no one was there to correct him and he certainly wasn't, not after scarfing down his plate in almost the same manner.

"Guess everyone's asleep," Jensen said.

"It was a late night for everyone. That didn't seem to stop you though."

"Or you," Jensen replied. "We went shopping everywhere and I don't think I'll be able to fit all those clothes in my closet. I'll have to wear something different every day for a long time if I want to wear all of them," he finished enthusiastically.

"Sounds like you enjoyed yourself," Vegeta said as he noticed the other's tone.

"I did. It was really fun."

"Little boys who like clothes shopping—I guess there's a first for everyone," Vegeta said referring to himself. It wasn't as if he had a vast knowledge of how typical boys acted. He simply remembered Bra being the same way around the age Jensen at least appeared. The girl was spoiled through and through and now it seemed Jensen was getting there too.

When Jensen finished his food, he left the plate on the table and disappeared from the room promptly leaving Vegeta with the dishes. With a sigh, he placed Jensen's plate on his.

"What has the world come to," Vegeta said to himself, "Cleaning up after others—me, the Prince of…a few half/quarter-Saiyans, I guess."

Not having anything better to do and no one else of consequence being around was the reasoning he always gave himself when he found himself doing something out of the norm. This, however, was not the first time he'd done chores and likely not the last. It didn't take him long and just as it had always been like in the past, he drew genuine satisfaction from having returned the area back to its previous gleaming condition.

Vegeta found Jensen on the couch where he'd told him he'd last seen Malachi. Jensen laid across it with his head propped up against the armrest as he continued to tinker with the cellphone. Vegeta sat down beside him at the other end of the couch.

"Is this what you plan to do all day?" Vegeta asked, "Waiting for who knows how long."

Vegeta didn't get an immediate reply. He looked over at the boy and noticed the same despondent eyes that looked about to start bawling.

"What if…he's not coming back?" Jensen said blinking back tears. "Daddy told me," he started to say, but then paused as he blinked back more tears. "Daddy told me he didn't think he would die of old age."

Brilliant things one should be telling impressionable children, Vegeta thought to himself, make them aware of your mortality along with their own. Then again, Vegeta doubted Malachi knew exactly what he should or shouldn't be telling kids. He wondered sometimes if he was any better.

"I'm not surprised he would say that," Vegeta said after a moment. "I wouldn't take what he said to—

He was interrupted when Jensen abruptly moved towards him and started crying into his shirt. Usually, when he found himself in similar situations he'd pull the person off of him and order that person to stop crying at once—it was what he'd done with Trunks when he was younger. Jensen was different, however. He seemed more emotionally fragile and he was Malachi's boy not his. Or maybe he was just growing soft. He allowed Jensen to cry just as he would Bra whenever something like this happened.

"Alright," Vegeta said after a few minutes of listening to the pitiful child. "Alright, kid, that's not going to change anything."

On his own accord, Jensen pulled away from him and looked up at him with teary eyes.

"You should do something to take your mind off of this—it's not good sitting around wallowing. You're just making it seem far worse than it really is. For all we know, he just went out for some joyriding and forgot to take his phone."

"You really think so?" Jensen asked in a small, shaky voice.

"It's too soon to make any concrete conclusions."

"Then, what should we do instead?"

"We?" Vegeta said noticing his choice of words. He sat back thoughtfully on the couch deciding it probably would be better if he found something that could occupy both of their time. Then it came to him, but it wasn't exactly a novel idea. "Want to know what I used to do at the crack of dawn every day?"

Jensen nodded clearly interested.

"Good. Meet me outside in the back."

There were many questions he still had about Jensen. Bulma hadn't been specific about her findings. Today, it seemed, would be a long day. All in the name of not having a little boy sitting around for hours worried about his father who hadn't bothered to tell anyone where he was going and left his phone in his apparent rush to leave.

* * *

 **The end of the week was upon him quickly and by that time, everyone knew that Malachi was missing.** Vegeta hadn't seen him at all the entire time and Bra continued to claim that maybe he was busy with preparations. She didn't expound on this until Sunday evening as they all sat around the dinner table. She was in a dreary mood—yet another victim of Malachi's strange absence except Vegeta doubted there was anything he could do to cheer her up.

"He promised me," Bra said interrupting the conversation he was having with Bulma at the moment. They both grew silent as she spoke. "He said he'd propose to me by the end of the week. And now…he's just left. He decided to just run away," Bra said in a near monotone.

"Oh, honey, is that what you meant before when you said he was probably busy?" Bulma asked looking at the saddened woman.

"Yes," Bra said hoarsely. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised. I have great taste in men as you can see. Only this time I was left with his kids, that clever son of a—

"Bra," Bulma said cutting her off and indicating Jensen with a head tilt.

"Oh, cursing isn't anything new to him—Malachi does it in front of him all the time. You know not to say bad words, right, Jensen?"

The boy nodded obediently. At the moment, he seemed in better spirits than Bra. "I don't think he left," he finally said.

"And what do _you_ think?" Bra asked.

"I think he was kidnapped."

Bra threw her hands up. "If only I could be as naïve as you. Who's going to kidnap him from _our_ home? Nothing was out of order. You really think some expert, covert team went out of their way to 'steal' him. If that's the case, where's the ransom? And why wouldn't he be able to get his own self out of that situation ages ago?"

"I don't know," Jensen said honestly, "It just doesn't sound right that he would just leave."

Bra sighed. "I know him better than you do, Jensen. Your daddy is someone who's never once planted roots anywhere. Were it not for his career in music he'd likely drift around aimlessly without a reason or cause. I don't even know if he's capable of trusting someone other than himself. Proposing to me would have been the answer I was hoping for, but clearly he thought differently. Him leaving his cellphone?—he could buy a million more all filled with the pertinent information he would need. He backs up everything. He's always prepared. It wouldn't even surprise me if he'd actually _planned_ for it to be this way so that he'd avoid having to explain himself."

Jensen stood up abruptly causing the chair to slide back noisily, "Well, I don't care if _you've_ given up on him. _I_ haven't!"

"Jensen," Bra said sternly, but it was to no avail as the boy ran out of the dining room. With this, she sighed heavily. "I don't know what to do with him anymore."

"Give it some time," Bulma said, "You two are both stressed."

To Machi's credit, she'd remained remarkably quiet since dinner began. For the most part, she'd been far more manageable this whole week, but her quietness was odd for someone who was known for crying. Vegeta watched Bra feed Machi, probably an activity that helped to calm her. He and Bulma agreed that it was better if Jensen was left alone for the time being to cool off. Jensen and Bra in the same room didn't seem like the best thing to do right now.

"I'll make some calls," Bulma said, "I know people in the local police—they'll be able to help."

Bulma tended to know people everywhere so it came as no surprise to Vegeta when she said this. Somehow he knew that this wouldn't help matters overly much. Vegeta wasn't sure what to think about Malachi, but he wanted to believe that there was a good explanation for his absence whether he left of his own accord or was kidnapped. None of it sat well with him. Just like Laputa, Malachi was unreachable.

* * *

 **Vegeta awoke the next day far later than usual, yet it still felt jarring as if something had interrupted him as opposed to waking naturally.** Something was off. He looked around the room and nothing looked out of place. Then his heart skipped a beat and his eyes grew wide with horror. Where was Bulma and why couldn't he sense her?

He threw on some clothes and ripped through the house at a startling speed looking in all the usual places for her. Jensen was on the same couch still occupying himself with Malachi's phone. Bra was with Machi currently watching a kid's show and trying to get the other to interact with it.

"Have you seen your mother?" Vegeta asked Bra after stepping into the room.

Bra looked up from her happy antics. "She went to the headquarters to check on things—I think she got a little jealous you got to spend so much time with Trunks before," she said with a grin. "You look _really_ worried though—is something up?"

"No," he said stepping back, "Maybe it's nothing." Bra was in a good mood, a far cry from yesterday, he didn't want to upset her with unsubstantiated worry. "I'm going to go check on her," he finished just so the other could know where he was headed.

"Alright," Bra said, "Call me if it's serious."

She returned her attentions to the laughing Machi and Vegeta left abruptly, hightailing it over to Trunks' place of work. He went first to the window where he knew his office was behind, but at the moment, it was unoccupied. Vegeta waited for over ten minutes before trying a different route and going in through the front doors. He made his way to the busy elevator and went all the way to the top floor where he eventually came into contact with a blonde lady who sat boredly clicking through something on the nearby computer screen—Trunks' secretary Kiah who was admittedly easy on the eyes. She knew who he was along with everyone else in the Briefs family as they'd all stopped by at some point since Trunks had started working there.

"Oh, Vegeta! Nice to see you again," she said with a bright smile. She sat up a little straighter in her seat seeing someone to attend to.

"I'm looking for Bulma. Have you seen her here lately?"

"In fact, I have," she said cheerfully, "Just this morning, she came in to see Trunks and they left to have lunch together. I didn't see her after that, but Trunks came back. Then he had some meetings scheduled that was outside the office so he's out at the moment."

"I see," Vegeta said. "And do you know when he'll be back?"

"Probably after five," she said as she likely pulled up his schedule, "But it's been like this all week. It'll be better next week though."

"Alright, thanks," Vegeta said turning from her.

"Have a great day, Vegeta," she said brightly.

Vegeta gave her a brief wave goodbye for all her cheerfulness. Besides, she'd been helpful and not asked a lot of annoying questions. However, he didn't want to wait almost four hours worrying about Bulma's whereabouts the whole time. It didn't make sense to him in the first place that he couldn't sense her. Had she suddenly learned how to hide her ki signature? For now, Trunks was his only lead and probably the last to have seen her. He was considering bursting in on whatever trivial meeting Trunks was having, but then thought a little better of this. He pulled out his cellphone and called his son. Eventually he was sent to voicemail—this time, he would leave a message.

"Trunks, this is your father. Call me back as soon as you can."

That was all he said. He didn't expound on just what he wanted to talk about—it seemed redundant if he was planning to eventually be able to speak with him. With this done, there was nothing else he could do but wait. He'd give Trunks an hour, then he was going to go directly to him, meeting or no. Not being able to feel Bulma's presence was jarring enough to cause him to slowly lose whatever patience he'd developed over the years and perhaps much more.

He took off into the air and flew about in high speeds though not traveling too far away from where he sensed Trunks. At the very least, his son's presence was still there. In that time, Vegeta thoroughly examined it once again. He felt only slightly stressed but largely at ease—clearly, he wasn't panicked about anything. Vegeta had to keep reminding himself of this fact. Surely, Trunks would have called him if he thought Bulma was in danger. This was all just a misunderstanding, but he couldn't come up with any good explanations. It was difficult to keep his darker thoughts at bay and stop himself from drawing connections between Malachi and Bulma. They were both at the moment inexplicably lost.

Vegeta stopped abruptly in the sky when his cellphone started vibrating. He answered it after noting Trunks on the Caller ID.

"Good thing you called—I was just about to come see you myself," Vegeta said as a greeting.

"Good afternoon to you too, Dad. I was flicking through my voicemail and saw your name—I seriously thought I was seeing things. Think I might just store this for safekeeping; who knows when you'll ever do something like that again," he said in teasing tones.

"This is not a laughing matter," Vegeta said haughtily.

"I can tell from the tone of the message. What's wrong?" Trunks asked, his voice becoming serious.

"Have you seen Bulma? I can't sense her at all. It's like she's hiding her ki signature. I spoke to your secretary and she said she had lunch with you today."

"We did," Trunks said, "I had to cut it short though unfortunately. Another call that couldn't wait. Mom said she'd probably stop by Hobby Town to get something for Jensen."

"Hobby Town? Alright."

"Wait, before you hang up abruptly. Call me if you can't find her. Now that you mention it—I can't sense her either. We'll just have to retrace her steps."

"Let me worry about her, you've already told me all that you know."

"Yeah, I know, but you don't have to go it alone all the time. I'm offering my help so just take it."

"Fine," Vegeta said not feeling up for arguing, "I'll call you later."

He hung up right after not planning to call either Bra or Trunks. He would be better suited dealing with this. More people meant more personalities to contend with and he didn't want to miss important details.

Vegeta flew off to Hobby Town and landed directly in front of the store disregarding all stares of amazement. Slowly, he made his way through the store, his eyes taking everyone in. He walked through several times realizing before then that Bulma was not here. She hadn't been here at all, Vegeta concluded. Her scent was nonexistent and she'd supposedly been here at the most a couple hours ago. He asked all the cashiers and other working staff about Bulma for good measure and he came up negative. No one had seen the blue haired woman.

Maybe she hadn't made it to Hobby Town. He'd narrowed down the time in which she must have disappeared between the end of lunch and her driving to the store. He called up Trunks once again.

"Yes, Dad," Trunks answered much to his surprise.

"Where did you have lunch with her?"

"You still haven't found her?" Trunks asked in concerned tones.

"I _will_ find her," Vegeta said stolidly, "Just tell me where you had lunch."

"Café Río," Trunks told him without hesitation. "We got there around noon time. I didn't actually see her leave. I left before she did. Now I wish I'd—

"It probably wouldn't have changed anything," Vegeta said before the other could finish. "Did anything seem out of the ordinary? Think hard."

"She was worried about Jensen—she was telling me about how Malachi was missing in action and how the kid wasn't taking it so well. But other than that, nothing was wrong. We were talking about some applications for the prototype she's been working on for months now right before I got that call about forty minutes in."

"I see," Vegeta said. "I'll look into it."

He hung up again and then sped off to the café that Trunks had mentioned. It was a Mexican café that was known for serving good tacos—not a place that Bulma would decide to go to on her own, ever concerned about her precious figure. It was likely something Trunks had suggested and she'd given in. It wouldn't surprise him at all if she still managed to order a salad despite being surrounded with the smell of fresh tacos.

Once there, Vegeta knew Bulma had been there. He could smell her lingering scent beneath the smell of chicken and pork. From there he began to follow it out into the parking lot and then just like that it disappeared.

"Here," Vegeta said to himself.

This must have been where she got into her car and drove off. It would have been a ten-minute trip to Hobby Town. In that time, she vanished into thin air. Vegeta, on foot, followed the path she most likely took, but found no other signs of Bulma. None of it was making sense.

Hours went by of him tracing and retracing his steps until the sun began to set and he'd gotten no closer to finding her. As time continued to pass the more his heart began to sink, the more difficult it became to keep his composure. A calm mind could accomplish more than a frantic or emotional one. He'd known that fact for a good part of his life, but that never stopped him from letting his emotions takeover be it anger or despondency.

He was forced to come home when he realized he was banging his head up against a wall. He felt empty. All he could do was stand in the large expansive front yard staring up at the sky completely lost. He was already questioning the point of continuing with life in general…But it was too soon for such things. She could turn up tomorrow and everything would be right in the world.

He couldn't bring himself to calling anyone so he just stayed outside at first standing, then sitting, and finally lying sprawled on the freshly cut grass. The weekly people who came out to keep up the yard had come and gone that morning and he'd slept right through it. He wasn't sure how long he'd laid out there as his eyes became glazed over, but at some point, Jensen interrupted his solace. He felt someone beside him and his senses told him that it was the kid.

"Bulma's gone too, isn't she?" Jensen said in a quiet voice.

Vegeta didn't dignify the other with an answer. He didn't want to say "yes" or else it would become real.

"Do you think it's Laputa?" he asked.

Vegeta's eyes came back into focus at the mention of that name. "I know it's him," he said as much to Jensen as to himself. "He's just the person to stoop to these cowardly levels instead of just facing me. He doesn't know how much more worse he's made it for himself. Once I find that bastard, I'll let him beg for mercy before killing him outright."

"I'm…sorry," Jensen said.

"What are you apologizing for? Do you have something to do with this?" Vegeta said looking directly at the boy now as he sat up from the ground.

Jensen shook his head. "It's just…well, I know he's also my father."

"And what do you think of him?" Vegeta asked.

"I don't…know him so I don't really think anything of him. One time he asked me to come with him, but I couldn't. There's something he's missing. I can't explain it, but I didn't want to learn from someone like that."

"I think I know what that is," Vegeta said closing his eyes. "Stay near me. I have a feeling that he'll be coming for you next."

It was quite dark outside so far away from the house and the backyard spread out for miles with sparse lighting in between. Though his eyes were closed, he wasn't asleep and he was not expecting to do this at all as his anticipation grew. Malachi claimed that they'd angered the creature, surely kidnapping a couple people he knew wasn't enough for him. He was hoping it was not nearly enough.

He felt something in that moment coming towards him and when he opened his eyes a split second later, it was already too late to move out of the way. He felt a string of energy tearing through his chest and out the other side and for a moment he couldn't breathe. Jensen jumped to his feet with a shout. Vegeta's eyes struggled to see just as he heard footsteps.

"Trunks?" Vegeta managed to say as he got his breath back.

Out of the shadows, he saw his son not in his business clothing, but something more befitting of fighting. "Hello, father, were you waiting for me?"

"Quit playing games!" Vegeta spat as he climbed to his feet. His chest was throbbing in a way that wasn't usual for the kind of attack he just received. He resisted the urge to press his hand against it.

Trunks laughed at this. "You're right, I'm tired of playing—it gets a little boring when you keep winning every time."

"How long have you—"

"Long enough. It's much easier to take someone while they're asleep I've learned. For humans, their minds are still very active during that time, but they can't defend themselves. It took no time at all really with no fuss. Learning the ins and outs of one earthling mind allowed me to learn his with far less trouble. But enough explanation, I've come to finish you off once and for all, Saiyan."

"What have you done with Bulma and Malachi?"

"I've had some fun with them. Malachi was my personal pleasure and I had him all to myself for days," Laputa said with a grin.

"You sick bastard," Vegeta declared.

"Hm, you defeat me and I'll tell you where I stored them. How does that sound?"

"Sounds like you want to die painfully." Vegeta looked to Jensen who was now hiding behind him. "Go inside with your mom, kid."

Jensen mutely nodded before he started running off.

"You poor lost Saiyan—the last of a once proud and thriving race. I'm sure these earthlings owe a great debt to your protection. You've become one of them, haven't you? Mellow and civilized—a far cry from what Saiyans are known for. Show me your true strength, Vegeta, and I shall crush you."

* * *

 **AN:** Looks like Laputa's made his move.

 **WildHeart44:** Ah, man, I thought everybody knew about the review responses down here, but I guess I don't draw a lot of attention to it and it's at the very bottom where it's easy to skip. I'll answer one of those questions you have: Trunks has not met his niece. And also another one: Bra does whatever the heck she feels like on a whim. She's spoiled rotten and has access to the family bank account that is never without money. Right now she's occupied with Machi.


	38. Manic Malachi

"Wake up," a voice ordered; it seemed to echo throughout.

Malachi felt exhausted, but in a way that felt like he was just emerging from a deep slumber. Everything felt wrong. The smell of dampness, the coolness that seemed to come from an outside source, and the rough ground that he felt himself sitting on. His arms were raised. He looked up and saw his arms chained up, but he couldn't move them no matter how hard he tried. In fact, he couldn't move any of his limbs, only his head.

A hazy, gray world appeared before him and a silhouette of a person stood some distance away.

"That's it, my little pet. Let me introduce you to your new home—well, before this world is completely annihilated by yours truly."

Malachi tried to move his mouth to speak, but he couldn't. He knew who it was. The voice was that of Trunks, but he knew his true identity. Though he'd doubted himself a little when the others hadn't agreed with him back at the restaurant, deep down he couldn't let the feeling go. Laputa had a certain presence that Malachi could feel if he looked hard enough and was in close proximity.

"The drugs that I spiked your drink with last night haven't worn off enough. Which is just as well," Laputa said, "This mind that I now possess has given me a vast knowledge of both chemistry and engineering. Poison is the perfect weapon for someone like me, someone who doesn't want to get their hands dirty."

Malachi watched the other step closer and he could make out Trunks' form a bit better. He wore a blue and yellow Capsule Corp jacket over a black shirt and dark cargo pants along with his trademark yellow boots. It was a far less formal attire from last night.

"You will be here for as long as I want you to be and I will see to it that you pay for all the trouble you've caused me. I spent so much time trying to mold you into my perfect vessel and you disregard all my efforts, ignoring and fighting me every chance you could get. How do you think that makes me feel, human? A small, weakling like you unwilling to accept my greatness. I _made_ you a better person. I made you stronger and more capable. I gave you a perspective that was rare and insightful gathered from all my years of living. Yet you remained so _adamant_ about ridding yourself of my presence.

"I have news for you, human. There are other ways in which I can have you. By first stripping you of your mental defenses, of your dignity, you would be under my thumb just like that. I wanted to avoid that as it makes the vessel weaker, but you've forced my hand."

Malachi tried to speak again and this time his mouth moved, but his voice was barely above a whisper and quite strained. "Someone…will come…looking for me. You can't just…kidnap me—" He stopped when Laputa began laughing raucously.

"No one will come looking for you," Laputa said plainly. "You've simply deserted your family, left on a whim just like the unreliable, flighty person you are."

"No one will believe that," Malachi said steadily.

"And you sound so confident when you say that. You poor ignorant fool," Laputa said as he squatted down to Malachi's level. "There is not a soul in this world save for me who knows who you are and what you're capable of. They will form their own opinions and they will come to the worst conclusions. You do realize that, right?"

"But, Bra—

"Bra will think you finally left her for good. Let me ask you something, Malachi. When was the last time you ever opened up to anyone? When have you ever talked to anyone about yourself and not some façade. The people who you say you love doesn't know you any better than anybody else off the street."

"That's not true," Malachi said staring at the ground wracking his mind with whether it was the case or not. Certainly, he had shared things with Bra that he'd not told anyone else, but perhaps that wasn't enough.

"You don't even believe the words that are coming out of your mouth," Laputa said with a laugh. "It's much too late for all that now, Malachi. You will be in my care for the time being. Why don't you take a moment and look down at yourself."

There wasn't much else he was able to do so he did this despite himself. It was then that he finally noticed his state of undress. "What did you do with my clothes," he asked in irritation.

Malachi watched the other take a bag out from inside his jacket. With closer inspection, he knew it was a bag of fresh shelled peanuts and his eyes narrowed at the very sight of them. He made no comment as the other slowly opened the bag for effect. He watched as the other placed his hand deep into the bag. Dusty particles floated around his hand now which only increased his anxiety. He couldn't move. He couldn't do anything to stop what he knew the other was likely to do. Was this what it had come down to? Torture? He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. It was probably better to simply prepare himself than waste time trying to convince himself that there was some way out of this.

He could smell it now. The deceptively pleasant smell of peanuts acted more like a warning than a comfort. It was forever associated with pain and suffering. Though he always put on a brave face whenever he was in the presence of such foods, even so far as to give off an air of indifference, in reality, he was quite terrified. Only before, he had more control of the situation. Now, he had no control and he was at the mercy of whatever Laputa felt like doing. He listened to the sound of hard shelled peanuts pushing against each other. Then the sound of shells cracking. He opened his eyes now and watched as a fisted hand easily demolished the peanut's protective covering. Laputa ate one himself teasingly. The moment Laputa reached out his arm to force what was left in his hand into his mouth, he turned his head away defiantly.

"Of course, you'd want to make things a little difficult for me," he sneered.

He grabbed his neck almost enough to cause him trouble in breathing and stopped him from moving. Without hesitation, peanuts were shoved into his mouth. Though he tried to spit them back out, Laputa held his hand over his mouth. Malachi choked on it before he was able to spit it out—Laputa had moved his hand out of the way. His tongue was already swelling up and his nose already starting to run. Then all of a sudden, he could breathe again for a moment, but the sensation was short lived as he felt his throat tightening. He vaguely noticed the sound of retreating footsteps right before the vomiting began as it always did. There was no dignified way of doing this as he still couldn't move no matter how hard he tried. Clearly, Laputa must have given him some sort of neurotoxin, something that did not allow him to make himself move, but he could still breathe and regurgitate for that matter.

Assuming this was the day after he'd "fallen asleep" after the outing with Vegeta, Trunks, and Terri, that was all the food he'd had after a couple of days with minimal eating. Now all of that ended up outside of his body in the most undesirable of ways. Most of it was now in his lap so that he could continue to smell its repugnancy for a long time to come and the smell wasn't helping his already weak stomach. In short, it was utterly disgusting and humiliating.

Laputa was quite gone by the time Malachi had the presence of mind to look for him. Just like that, he was there by himself. He wasn't tired in the least and his eyes kept looking around the dimly lit area, but there was nothing to see. The entire area was emptied aside from some metal stairs that led up and a view of the outside from a doorway that seemed to lack doors. It reminded Malachi of an abandoned factory. When he looked up again to see his chained arms, he noticed it was attached to a thick supporting column that his body now leaned against. He could only imagine the loss of circulation in his arms being in such a position for so long. The same fate awaited the rest of him as well if he stayed in any position for too long.

He turned his head to the left so that he could gaze out at the only color he could find, the only evidence of life. After about an hour, his nose became used to the sickening smell and ignored its presence altogether, but he was idle and he hated being so idle. Laputa must have known this. Maybe this was part of it. He'd practically spelled out his intentions. All Malachi had to do was to make sure he remained mentally strong. Easier "thought" than done. Already he wasn't feeling his normal self. If what Laputa said was true, then no one would be looking for him.

But he could be wrong too. It was dangerous to think too negatively. It was a slippery slope from there. Only, he knew his own habits. He tended to be pessimistic. He always thought the worst before anything else.

"Stay positive," Malachi said aloud.

He was alone. What if no one came for him? What if Laputa no longer cared to have him as a vessel and killed him outright? How long would he be here? What if Laputa got his way? Or worst of all, what else did he have in store for him? Surely, this wasn't it.

"Stay positive," Malachi said once again in irritated tones.

He'd put his head down when his neck grew tired from looking up. Now he was looking outside again and he noticed the light was dimming. How long had he been there already? It was then right after he asked this to himself that he felt the telltale signs of a migraine. He groaned in self-pity.

"Of course," he said to himself, "Of course now."

His neck being tired, he was looking down again at the drying mess on his lap. It took him a moment to realize the lack of bandages on him. How had he missed it before? His wounds were quite exposed and if he could feel at the moment, he would be in even more pain. Still, it wasn't exactly sanitary. Seemed death was still on the table if he was unlucky enough to catch an infection.

When he looked up again to look outside, it was night time. Hours must have passed. He must have either fallen asleep or completely zoned out. He sighed to himself as he closed his eyes. It was the only thing he could do. He felt utterly mute and helpless which was embarrassing enough, but it was accompanied with a relentless pain in his head that he could do nothing for. Involuntarily, his eyes had begun to water. He couldn't even make himself comfortable, he was stuck sitting up in the same position. If only he could fall asleep and wake up in a place he considered his home, warm and inviting.

It was too early for those sorts of thoughts. It was only the first day and who knew how many days he would be there?

* * *

 **Malachi was staring numbly up at the faraway ceiling when he heard the sound of footsteps coming towards him.** It was Laputa still with Trunks' visage. He looked the picture of health and none the worse for wear and it immediately soured his mood, but strangely he was relieved to see him. Sitting alone for so long was starting to eat at his sanity and he supposed he didn't have much of it to spare. He needed to speak to someone even if that person was his worst enemy and wished him ill. Along with that, he was starving with no hope of food in the future. He hoped Laputa hadn't bought more peanuts.

"Good afternoon, Malachi," Laputa said smoothly.

He was very much in control and Malachi was no match for him—it pained him to admit it to himself. If he was ever going to get out of this mess, he would need to depend on someone else and he hated depending on someone else for something as important as his life.

"I see you're still holding on there. But I can see that you're already breaking. Don't blame yourself too harshly. It's difficult for a zebra to change its stripes. And I know you like the back of my hand. I could tell you it's futile to resist, but you'll do it all the same and fail all the same eventually."

"Someone will come for me," Malachi said in a scratchy, unused voice. He had to clear it to speak with decent clarity. "Even if it isn't them, others will notice. All the people I work with at the studio, my agent, somebody..."

Laputa only grinned at him and looked around himself mockingly. "And yet no one's here. How would they find you? You don't have your cellphone. You're completely naked and you're completely alone. But that shouldn't be an unfamiliar feeling. Doesn't it give you a sense of nostalgia?"

Laputa pulled out a bottle of water from the inside of jacket and Malachi's eyes lit up greedily. It could be laced with poison, but his dry mouth could care less and his hunger pangs were back with a vengeance. Laputa set what looked like a cold bottle of water on the ground well within his eyesight.

"I'll be back in a little while," Laputa said as he turned.

"Bastard!" Malachi bit out, "I hope you get what's coming to you."

"Your threats are weak and meaningless. I would save my breath for all that."

Malachi watched the other walk out. He turned a corner and disappeared and he stared at that corner, then he looked to the outside again—anything that _wasn't_ the blasted bottle. Eventually, he gave in when he convinced himself that avoiding it was silly and wouldn't prove a thing. His mouth salivated and he did once again try to move, but nothing happened. Once he started looking that's all he could do and he let his mind do the rest of the work as he imagined drinking it over and over and over.

Much, much later Laputa returned and Malachi didn't even bother looking up at him. He heard as the bottle was picked up and then as the top was being opened. He was salivating again despite not trusting the other's intentions—he was more likely to pour it all out on the floor than to pour some into his mouth. It was also then that Malachi reflected on just how low he had fallen if the bright point of his day was hoping Laputa would actually give him some water. Despite himself, he looked to see what the other was doing just in time to see him pour out a third of the bottle before spitting a large wad into.

"Still want it?" Laputa teased.

"Do what you will, asshole."

Laputa laughed at this. "I'll make sure that I do."

He knew he couldn't move yet he tried again as he became heated with anger that could not be expressed. It was useless to get riled up yet he did so anyway. Laputa approached him and pushed his head back against the metal column. With the same hand, he pulled his upper mouth open. Malachi bit down on his fingers and was rewarded with a crisp slap across his face, one that would leave a mark. Laputa tried again with more strength and poured the water directly into his mouth without pause. It was difficult to swallow, but he didn't want to in the first place. In the end, the water ended up all over him as he choked on the sheer amount that was forced into his mouth.

"See? That wasn't so bad," Laputa said to Malachi who was currently gasping for breath.

"I don't get it," Malachi said between breaths.

"That doesn't surprise me," Laputa said not letting the other finish.

"Why are you wasting your time doing all this when you already have a perfectly fine vessel who's better than me in almost every way?"

"Desperation doesn't suit you," Laputa replied, "You'd go so far as to compliment someone you obviously don't like."

"I don't dislike him," Malachi said singularly.

"Funny, I doubt he'd say the same about you."

"Well, that's his problem. The question remains. You dodging it tells me all that I need."

"Look at you, always thinking you're more clever than the next person. You don't know anything."

In that moment, Malachi realized something. Knowing that Trunks would make a far better vessel for Laputa's purposes and that there was some reason Laputa wasn't taking advantage of this, allowed him to connect the dots.

"Why don't you just spit out? Tell me what you _think_ you know."

"Oh? Curious, are you?"

"You are in no position to be smug. I could make your life so much more worse—it wouldn't be wise to piss me off."

He wasn't exactly planning to not say what was on his mind and if he had been, he'd certainly think better of it. Laputa was his only link to civilization at this point; the only one he could possibly talk to besides himself.

"What if he breaks free of your control?"

"He won't. And there is nothing that anyone can do to change that."

"In other words, it would be up to him. But I know it couldn't be permanent. You're working under time constraints. You are just as desperate as I am."

Laputa laughed at this and he did so for almost an entire minute fitfully. "I can take over anyone that I want. This planet is full of weaklings ripe for the picking. The very thought that anyone would think I'm desperate is ridiculous."

"Then why don't you find someone else? If there's truly such a wide selection, why do all this?"

"Because," Laputa began slowly as he squatted down to his level, "I have settled on you. You are my perfect host. Easily taken over and easily strengthened. You have something that no one else has. Intelligent, wily—something that compliments my own characteristics."

Malachi grinned and shook his head at the other. "I'm nothing special. You're just telling me things I want to hear. You forget, I know you as well. The only reason you're doing this is because you've already gone through that binding process with me. You've simply grown impatient and I would be your best option. Otherwise you'll have to go through days of the binding process once again. A Saiyan would take far longer so you won't bother with that. I'm going to bide my time until Trunks sees through your trick, whatever you've done to him."

"You suddenly have a lot of faith in a man who could care less about you," Laputa noted.

"I got pissed at him one time because he saw me as foolish, but he was right and I didn't want to admit it. I don't hate him. I don't really dislike him. I just never got around to apologizing. A guy like that who was raised by both a genius scientist and a brilliant combat strategist, who is now the CEO of the biggest corporation on this planet, will see through your shenanigans one way or another. So I will bide my time."

"You assume you have time to spare," Laputa said standing up again.

"What do you mean?" Malachi asked.

"I mean, you are dying. Every moment you spend apart from me brings you closer to your untimely death. Those headaches you keep getting is the telltale sign. Some people don't even get that. Of the few who have successfully separated from me after the binding, most simply drop dead. Some live a bit longer only to suffer in pain. You are part of the latter."

"You're lying. I was having those headaches even before we were separated. In fact, it was why Bulma decided to give me the treatment sooner rather than later."

"Sharp as always, I see. Have you considered Jensen being the cause?"

"He has nothing to do with this."

"He has everything to do with this. There is a ritual that comes with birth for my kind that neither one of you would know—a passing of knowledge from one's parents. What Jensen absorbed was random and unorthodox. A human mind could not handle such an event and Jensen was not fully capable of doing it properly, but he was not human enough to not be compelled towards such an act. What you felt then was different; a side effect of an improper birthing ritual that just so happened to express itself in a headache. What you feel now is something else. I'm sure you've noticed its increasing frequency. Make no mistake—you are dying and you are living on borrowed time."

"And binding with you again would change all that," Malachi said matter-of-factly.

"Exactly."

"How stupid do you think I am? If that was really the case, why not just tell me that in the first place. For all I know, this is all part of your plan to make me _think_ I need to accept you."

"Perhaps," Laputa said casually, "Perhaps not. Maybe I thought such reasons wouldn't faze a person like you who throws himself into life-threatening situations simply to satisfy a whim. Surely, you'd choose death over being taken by me."

"I die either way, don't I?" Malachi asked quietly.

Laputa smiled at him. "It seems like you already know the answer to that."

"You've had other hosts from other planets and yet you come to this one without a host. I can only imagine that they were killed or otherwise died while under your influence."

"After a while, the host dies," Laputa said with a sigh, "But death isn't nearly as eminent as it would be if you continue like you are."

"I see," Malachi said as he finally looked to the ground. "Then I've made my choice already. Do what you want with me, but I won't make it easy for you."

"So many people have said that to me and they all wound up going back on their word. I know what makes you tick. I know what would make you emotional. I know how to make you vulnerable." He crushed the plastic bottle that was still in his hand and tossed it aside well out of Malachi's reach. "Which reminds me. You need another dose."

Malachi clenched his teeth at the sound of this. He still couldn't move yet Laputa felt the need to "medicate" him again. Eventually, Laputa smashed Malachi's head against the metal wall behind him so that he could not resist. He grunted as he felt the needle slide into his neck. This time, exhaustion took him quickly and he fell deeply asleep.

* * *

 **Days began to blur together.** Malachi could no longer tell how long he'd been there. He'd already defecated on himself twice as it became impossible to hold things in for such a long time. He'd seen Laputa twice more and he'd been given water though he wasn't nearly as wasteful as last time—he wanted him to remain hydrated. Because there was a chance that he could get out of this, he acquiesced and allowed the other to give him water without fuss though Laputa was none too gentle about it.

Malachi wanted food—he knew he wouldn't be seeing this anytime soon. That particular fact and the constant feeling of hunger was torture enough and Malachi knew the other must have known this. Each time Laputa came, he injected the immobilizing drug and each time it would knock him out for a while, something he wasn't opposed to.

For the majority of the time, he was by himself staring at nothing. After a day or so, he became used to his surroundings and could derive no more stimulation from it. In the end, he simply began talking to himself—not just a little, but in full-fledged conversations. There were appointments he was sure he'd missed by now and his manager who must have by now figured out that he was missing, but he was also sure that they were keeping such information under wraps. No need to panic the masses. There was no way they would find him, however. They had no leads.

Did anyone really miss him or had they moved on with their lives already? He might be a popular icon in the eyes of the public, but there had been others before him, others even now, and others that would dominate the future spotlight. Each of them would eventually fade away. It was the nature of the business. Though there was some longevity in his status unlike most, he could exit the world stage at any time and no one would really care aside from speculation.

There was always those pounding headaches to keep him company as well and more and more he kept returning to what Laputa had said. Was he really dying? His gut told him that there was some truth to it. As if he had some sixth sense about such things, he'd felt inexplicably closer to death than he ever had before and he'd been acting more recklessly because of it. He couldn't shake that feeling and now he supposed he knew why.

He looked up when he heard Laputa's now familiar footsteps. He would see Trunks and wonder how much longer it would take for him to seize control again—apparently, it wouldn't be today.

"Poor, poor Bra," Laputa said in mock sympathy, "She feels so abandoned and betrayed."

"What are you talking about?" Malachi asked knowing the other was baiting him into such a question. He no longer cared.

"Instead of keeping your promise, you decided to run away," Laputa said with a devious grin.

Malachi's eyes widened at this. In the wake of everything that happened, he'd forgotten her ultimatum. One moment he was still deciding just what place he should buy the ring, the next he was waking up in this hellhole where survival had been at the forefront. The whole time he'd not spared this issue a thought and he'd had time to think of many things. It was a promise he assumed he would have no problem keeping so it was the least of his worries and he spent the least amount of time thinking about it. But now...

"Have I...have I missed it? How long have I—"

"Long enough. She tells me about her shitty taste in men—"

"She does," Malachi said, "The absolute worst. She's fiercely attracted to surface beauty and little else. She never looks for anything else and wounds up with the same shitty guys."

"Do you honestly think so low of yourself? Has your time here begun to change things?"

"No," Malachi shaking his head. "I'm at least a little less shitty than all the other guys. What did she say to you?"

Laputa took his time answering which frustrated Malachi, but he knew the other did this purposefully. "She was clearly in tears," he began. Malachi looked down after he said this picturing a distraught Bra in his mind. "She kept giving you chances and that you disappointed her at every turn. She wondered how she let things continue for so long. I asked her if she would ever consider taking him back if he ever returned and she told me she'd be a fool to do it. She was tired of your shenanigans and told me she'd be better off alone."

"She'll understand," Malachi said solemnly, "Once I tell her what happened. None of this matters."

"And how long do you think she can sit and stew about your abandonment before It's too late to change things? How much damage is too much? When will she finally have enough of you?"

Malachi had become silent as he was suddenly at a loss of words. She was crying over him. He never wanted to be responsible for that. After the impossible happened, after he was finally separated from Laputa he had told himself that things would eventually get better. He didn't exactly expect to be forgiven so quickly after all that had happened, but she had. She had been patient and understanding, accepting Jensen as if he was her own after he fully explained the circumstances of his birth. Malachi shared things with her that he had not told anyone else including how he had come to have that appearance. All he could do in response was disappoint her. Even if this time there was a valid explanation, he felt as if he'd managed to screw things up again. Explanation aside, it was clear that Laputa had it out for him. Were he a better person, Laputa likely would not have decided on him as a host in the first place. Had he not decided on dating her in the first place, none of this would have occurred. She might have been happier.

"It must be a little frustrating knowing that she would confide in her brother who couldn't be bothered with keeping up with her or anyone else in the family. She forgives him just like that. But if you did the same, she assumes you've abandoned them for good with not even a thought spared to you actually being in trouble."

"That's different," Malachi said with a sigh.

"How so? Do you not see the double standards?"

"You're—He's her brother. They grew up together. They spent most of their lives knowing each other and living together. Knowing someone for so long like that, you get to understand them far better than anyone else. I can only imagine. It'd be different," he said looking to the ground once again, "Double standards, as you say, is understandable."

"Insightful, for one who is so rash. But I know what makes you tick," Laputa reminded him. "You might be able to brave physical pain, but what about the emotional ones? You have a family now—people who I can leverage you with. Threaten to kill them if I like. The truth is, there is only one thing you're truly scared of and that is being alone. Your only connection to that family is through Bra and once she breaks ties with you, you'll be back where you started."

"You're wrong," Malachi said looking up at the other with a defiant expression. "I don't care anything about—"

"I will be bringing your mother here soon."

"I don't have a mother," Malachi said exasperatedly.

"Yes, you do and she happens to be a brilliant scientist—you know her better as Bulma."

"Leave her out of this."

"Isn't that how you think of her? She need only tell you to do something and you would do it without hesitation. You want her approval. You want her to accept you as her son. Far be it that you of all people should harbor such pathetic thoughts. You have no need for parents—that's what you tell yourself when you begin to worry each time you're not on good terms with Bra. You know that your life would be utterly meaningless and empty without her influence. I will bring her here so that she can see just how pathetic you have become."

"Please," Malachi said hoarsely, "Leave her out of this. I'll..."

"You'll what?" Laputa said as the other paused for too long.

"Just don't. Please, don't. She doesn't deserve any of this."

Laputa seemed to ignore him as he continued. "I'll bring her here not just so she can see you, but to do to her what I've done to you."

Malachi's teeth gritted at this.

"One by one I shall tear down and destroy until you finally cave. And from the looks of it—I don't have far to go."

"You take Bulma and Vegeta will see to it that you die slow and painfully. He loves her deeply."

Laputa grinned at him. "Don't you worry about Vegeta. It is better that I get rid of him swiftly instead of taking my sweet time—those annoying Saiyans have a knack for growing stronger while under duress so I won't risk that. With this new body of mine, I think killing him will be easy. He doesn't suspect me at all. He's made himself vulnerable and easily exploitable by the likes of me. I'm sure you're seeing a pattern here, Malachi. The thing that makes even powerful Saiyans utterly weak."

"Spoken like someone who's never experienced anything aside from hate and destruction."

Laputa laughed at this. "You presume to lecture someone who's experienced far more than you could ever in your entire lifetime."

"You've written your own failure anyways. I'm talking to a dead man."

"Vegeta will die," Laputa said confidently, "Because I will make it impossible for him to win."

With this, Laputa left him alone once again. Laputa's confidence left Malachi wondering what his plan was. Vegeta was invincible, there was nothing to worry about. But as time rolled by, his own thoughts began to betray him.

"Don't fall for his tricks," Malachi said out loud. No one was there to hear so he could care less. "I'm…counting on you."

* * *

 **Malachi wasn't exactly sure when Bulma got there but he discovered her soon after he awoke again—he had no idea when he'd fallen asleep—some feet away from him on the gray wall to his left left.** There wasn't a lot of light, but his eyes had long since adjusted to the dark. He could still make her out. Her legs and arms were tied with ropes but she was not secured to the wall. Malachi could only assume that Laputa had given her the same drugs as he since her eyes were closed. He was more than certain that Bulma would be making far more of scene right about now if she knew her own condition.

The sight of her made him notice his own poor condition. He smelled like last week's garbage and he was utterly filthy and nasty looking. Being without clothes was made far worse with the presence of another. He was certain that by now after not receiving any solid nourishment and surviving purely because of hydration, he'd lost some weight. He hadn't felt this starved in a very long time—it was a feeling he'd never wanted to experience again. He felt sick and lethargic. As far as conversations he'd had with himself in the past—it was too tiring now to think of anything to say.

"Bulma!" Malachi tried to say loudly, but his voice came out pathetic and hoarse. No amount of clearing his throat would make that sound any better. "Bulma!" He repeated despite himself.

But she wouldn't wake; she was too far gone at the moment. _Good_ , Malachi thought to himself. Waking to a place like this would be tantamount to a nightmare. He never wanted to see her like this: helpless and vulnerable. She was out of place here; pristine and seemingly composed. He found himself continuously looking towards her as she was the only alteration to the place in a long time that was not Laputa mocking him. After a while, Malachi decided that she likely wouldn't wake for quite some time.

What would her scanner say now about his condition? His throbbing migraine became a constant feature of his life and there had been no alleviation pain-wise since he'd gotten here. He couldn't move as well to give himself the pretense of making himself comfortable. Instead, he had no choice but to bear it as it became harder and harder to think coherently. He'd cried out before when it had increased twofold for what felt like hours, but it was a fruitless venture. Time was the only healer.

As of now, with nothing to do, he was nodding off once again. He had no strength left to convince his body to stay awake longer. Then he received some stimulus—Vegeta's now noticeable ki signature. He'd never felt it so prominently. He was most certainly fighting against Laputa. That was all the details he was allowed, but he wondered about the circumstances. When had Vegeta seen through Laputa's disguise? Had Laputa been able to pull off whatever underhanded shenanigans needed to ensure Vegeta's demise? Was Vegeta not fighting at his peak because Laputa had taken his son's body? Had Laputa simply abandoned using Trunks altogether and used someone entirely different—as farfetched as that sounded? Malachi knew nothing and his mind which had been so dull and spent before was desperately trying to paint a succinct picture as to what was happening now.

Malachi concentrated as hard as he could on Vegeta, but all his senses could tell him was that Vegeta was actively fighting and Laputa, as usual, was impossible to sense. Though his skill with ki sense had increased, he was no expert. He couldn't discern the minute details like mood and condition and even now when he really wanted to know, that remained an impossible endeavor.

Then suddenly, Vegeta's ki signature disappeared and Malachi's eyes widened at the implications.

"Impossible," Malachi said to himself. "I must have missed something."

He waited and waited for any changes, but nothing else occurred. If he could, he'd be holding his breath in anticipation. He couldn't be sure the outcome of the fight. If Laputa returned….Malachi didn't want to think about it. If he didn't come, then Vegeta was victorious and they would still be lost. However, now that Bulma was here, there was a far better chance that Vegeta would find them. Or better yet, the drugs would wear off and they could get out themselves. He was sure he could muster up enough energy to break away the cuffs and untie Bulma, but he was getting ahead of himself.

Then another thought came to him, one that Malachi hoped Laputa would never consider. If he defeated Vegeta, he could take him over in the same way he'd done Malachi and there would be no one to stop him. Perhaps it was too risky a venture especially if he had to still continue to dose them with the drug to keep him and Bulma captured. One person could only do so much. His thoughts began to spiral this way and that before he was interrupted with the sound of footsteps. He looked up immediately to see who it was as soon as the person turned the corner. In his guts though, he knew it was Laputa—his stride was identical.

"He's dead," Laputa said smugly to the watching Malachi. "I think I've singlehandedly finished off the Saiyan race—it's been a long time coming, you know, but then they've always been a tenacious bunch."

"You're lying," Malachi said defiantly in lower tones.

"What was that? I can barely hear you over the sounds of your denial," he said with a grin.

"I said you're lying!" Malachi cried out with as much strength as he could muster. "Vegeta could never be defeated by the likes of you."

"Oh, I'm sorry—Did I break your spirits? Was he your very last hope?" Laputa mocked.

"You son of a bitch—what the hell did you do?!"

"Put him down like the monkey he is."

"I'm going to kill you," Malachi said darkly, "You won't get away with this, damn it!" He was already out of breath. "You can't just…you can't just go around destroying everything. Who the hell do you think you are?"

"It's as if we didn't spend a year together, my pet. You know why. Destruction is the inevitable end to all things living and it is the only thing that gives my life meaning."

"And what about everyone else? Have you stopped and placed yourself in anyone else's shoes other than your own? Have you thought about how your destruction is the thing that _takes away_ meaning from one's life? How can your way be right, if it's an unsustainable pursuit and it benefits no one but yourself? What kind of pathetic creature can derive anything but depravity from that?

"My, aren't we full of words today."

Malachi glared at the other. "You should just kill me now, Laputa. I will never bow to you. I will not make it any easier for you—and Bulma would be the same. There's nothing I can do for her once you start torturing her, but the thought that you would be no closer to your ultimate goal after all that work—that is how I will fight back; with every bone in my body and with every fiber of my being!"

Laputa was looking at him differently now as if he'd just realized something. Such a reaction was not expected, but Malachi quickly deduced that something else was going on as Laputa stepped away from him. As much anger as he was feeling right then, he did not think he had sufficient strength to adequately illustrate its true depth and definitely not enough to frighten the likes of Laputa. The expression on Laputa's face became confused. His fists clenched and it was as if he was in pain. It took a moment for Malachi to figure out what was happening.

"Get out of my body, you bastard!" Trunks yelled out.

In an instant, the ground was shaking beneath him violently as Trunks' ki surrounded him and burst outward in an incredible show of strength in such a short time span. Malachi had never seen the likes. His cries reverberated throughout the hollowed out factory and debris began to fall from the ceiling. In all the spectacle, it was difficult to see what had become of Laputa, but Malachi was fairly certain that the creature had left or was on the verge of doing so. Out the corner of his eye, he saw something translucent flit over the ground. When his head turned, he saw a bit more of its amorphous form, but it soon disappeared into the darkness. There was nothing he could do about it, but it bothered him that once again the elusive creature had gotten away. Something told him, however, in his heart of hearts that this would be the last time—he would be sure of it and he would be ready.

But now, however, he had another issue to deal with. The entire building was in danger of caving in on itself as Trunks had not seen fit to cease his powering up.

"Trunks, listen to me, your mom is here too! You're gonna' kill her if you keep this up!"

That got him as if he'd just snapped his finger and drawn someone out of hypnosis. The light show ended as Trunks seemed to gather himself. He seemed a bit out of breath as the smoke slowly subsided. All the while pieces of the ceiling continued to fall.

"Over there," Malachi said nodding his head in Bulma's direction before the other could ask—he still seemed a bit disoriented, but not enough to stop him from helping his unconscious mother.

Trunks had the ropes off quickly and he was checking her vitals. "She's fine," he said almost to himself. "Just a little shaken—she might have been dosed with something."

"She was," Malachi said so that there could be no doubt, "And I was as well. Laputa's way of keeping his prisoners compliant."

Trunks lifted Bulma into his arms as gently as he could and stood up. It was then that Trunks turned to look at him. Malachi had forgotten to be embarrassed until that moment. Trunks kept his face neutral, but Malachi could only imagine the thoughts going through his head. Two small ki blasts was all it took to destroy the chains that held his arms—they fell to his side limply. He was sure he'd lost circulation in them. For good measure, he tried to move again and he found that he could though not with as much coordination as he would have thought. It seemed the drugs wore off quickly if it wasn't administered in a timely manner.

"Here," Trunks said as he readjusted his hold on Bulma, deftly taking out a capsule and throwing it to a spot within armlength of Malachi with a poof. "I always have extra clothes on me, but they might be a bit big on you."

"Thanks," Malachi managed to say.

Malachi could care less—anything that he could throw on would do even a burlap bag if only to escape his growing chagrin. Malachi waited for the other to step outside through the doorway he'd been looking through to the outside world since he'd gotten there. But putting on clothes turned out to be quite the task. It was only his own stubbornness that stopped him from asking for help. His limbs wouldn't obey him like they should and he was forever starting over. In the end, his shirt was on backwards, but the pants, at least, was right. That would have to do for now as he was bone-tired. It was only the adrenaline and elations of finally being free that allowed him to stay on his feet. He made his way slowly outside where Trunks was waiting for him.

Obviously, Trunks also had a car in one of the many capsules he seemed to have on hand. It wasn't altogether surprising since he was the CEO of Capsule Corporation—he probably had dibs on all the latest technology even before it came out. It was nothing to have a few of them on his person at all times. Perhaps Laputa had seen the merits of this as well.

He'd already placed Bulma into the passenger seat by the time he stepped outside. It was in the dead of the night and they were in a deserted area. Looking around, his mood darkened a bit. No one would have found him in such a place, not in a long time and certainly not before Laputa had had his way with him.

"I would fly, but she's in no condition to be moved like that," Trunks said to him.

Malachi could only nod numbly.

"And you look like death," Trunks said further.

"I know," Malachi said barely managing to muster up a grin. "Let's just go already." The doors were probably unlocked so Malachi proceeded to the backseat, but when he tried to open the door he could barely wrap his hands around the handle to open it. "Really?" Malachi admonished himself under his breath. When he attempted to pull, he found his strength far too compromised to pull out the handle far enough. That was when his hand was moved aside and another did the deed for him.

"I had it," Malachi said looking over at Trunks, but with unmistakable redness on his cheeks.

"You're welcome," Trunks said in spite of.

He also closed the door behind him after Malachi managed to get into the backseat. Trunks climbed in as well and smoothly turned on the car. He didn't start moving immediately. All was silent for a while as Malachi was sure the other had something to say.

"Malachi," Trunks said with a sigh, "What the hell is going on?"

"That might be a long story," Malachi answered. "Listen, Laputa said that he…defeated your father."

"He's bluffing," Trunks said confidently.

"How are you so sure?" Malachi asked mystified.

"Because I can still sense him. He's alive and well. Now are you going to tell me what's going on? What happened here?"

"Alright, but only if you start driving."

Malachi watched the other tap a few buttons on the dashboard display. He started the GPS and then the vehicle started moving.

"Feel better now? We're moving, but it will take a while to get home—we're quite far away. More than enough time to explain things."

Malachi paused a moment as he considered where he should start and then he began. "I'm going off assumptions here, that Laputa must have possessed you either on the day of or before you, Terri, your father, and I went out to that restaurant for dinner."

"I have no recollection of that," Trunks said in confused tones.

"Maybe it's better you didn't," Malachi said trying to make himself a little more comfortable.

The seats were plush and warm, but even this wasn't enough to put Malachi at ease. From there, he began recounting the events of what he knew had happened since the restaurant along with his own supposition—he didn't want to fill the other in on the full details of what had happened at the abandoned factory, but only things that he believe the other would be interested in.

"I see—so everyone thinks you're missing, but no one suspected me during that time." Trunks rolled down the windows at this point. "It's cool outside, better to feel the breeze than the AC."

 _Or the smell is getting too strong_ , Malachi thought bitterly to himself.

"Did I really make a complete fool of myself at the restaurant?"

"It wasn't so bad," Malachi said with a yawn. "Everyone enjoyed it."

"Even Dad?"

"Even him in his own extremely subtle way."

"Hard to see when that guy is in a good mood or not."

"So you don't remember any of that happening, huh? What do you remember? Was it just that you fell asleep one day and woke up here?"

"It wasn't quite like that," Trunks said slowly.

When the other didn't expound right away, Malachi took off his seat belt and carefully laid down across the entire backseat—he simply could not sit up any longer. His bottom was quite tired of sitting. Though he wanted to do this gracefully, he wound up flopping down on the seat much to Trunks's dismay.

"Hey, are you alright?" Trunks asked quickly.

"Fine," Malachi grumbled. "Just fine."

"I don't know what Laputa did to you, but no one deserves that kind of treatment."

"I'm—"

"You're not fine," Trunks cut over the other. "To be honest, you're the reason we're driving instead of flying."

"So I'm slowing you down?" Malachi asked with a huff.

"Please, Malachi, not now. I don't want to risk moving you around too much. So we're going to play it safe and I don't mind doing that."

"I find that hard to believe," Malachi said.

It took Malachi a moment to situate himself on the seat, but soon his head was lying against the plush seating. This was practically heaven.

"I know we've had our differences, but you can't honestly think that I'm the kind of person who would purposefully put you in harm's way. Besides," Trunks said glancing back at him, "You're the guy that my sister intends the marry—I'd like to be on good terms."

Malachi became quiet after this imagining the shitstorm he was going to face once he got home. Could their relationship even be salvaged? He'd let her down yet again. "I wouldn't hold your breath," he said after a moment."

"Something happened again?" Trunks said knowingly.

"You could say that."

"Well, I'm in no position to judge. I've continually ruined things over and over again. You know you're the first guy that Bra has ever told me about? She had nothing but good things to say about you and also that you were an idiot despite everything else."

"Sounds accurate."

"I think whatever it is that you think you've done so wrong, you can make it up to her."

"Damn it, stop being so positive. What happened to the annoyed pissed off version of you?"

"Maybe you like to hold grudges—I do not. It's toxic and a waste of time. My father always held a grudge against Goku to some small degree for the entire time I knew them and I always thought it was silly. You won that fight and I miscalculated just how serious you were about fighting. I knew—after I cooled off, of course—why my father was willing to put up with you. He'd been so lackluster lately and every time I tried to get him to _do_ something, he'd shut me down every time. And I was also concerned about Bra because I thought he was sheltering her a bit too much. And then you came into the picture and changed all that. When I saw him last, he was more like himself, more like the person I once knew."

"I had no idea…" Malachi said slowly.

"You wouldn't, but thank you all the same."

"Maybe we should spar someday."

"Maybe, if I ever feel like it, which will likely not be anytime soon."

They were silent for a while and all that could be heard was the blowing of wind through the windows.

"So what happened to you, Trunks?" Malachi asked.

"What do you mean?"

"When you said it wasn't quite like falling asleep one minute and waking the next. What was it like being trapped like that in your own body?"

"It was strange. It was as if I was awake, but I wasn't and it took me a long time to realize that I wasn't. It's a long story."

"Well, we do have a long way ahead of us," Malachi reminded the other. "Let me hear it."

"You'll probably fall asleep before the end," Trunks said knowingly with amusement.

"I won't," Malachi said stubbornly.

"That's not a _bad_ thing," Trunks said exasperatedly, "And it's not a contest—no one's going to be impressed if you manage not to. Resting would be actually _beneficial_ to you, right now."

"Alright, got you. Now are you going to start or leave me in the dark?"

"I'll start," Trunks said.

Malachi was barely able to keep his eyes open and as soon as Trunks began to speak he felt himself falling into a deep slumber and there was no way to stop it much to his annoyance.

* * *

 **AN:** Let the good times roll.

 **WildHeart44:** Yeah, looks like Jensen was right about something, at least. Crap-baskets is right. Is Vegeta ready to beat the crap out of his firstborn? Stay tuned.

 **Wine:** Ironically, this a chapter posted on the last day of the week.


	39. Upside Down & Inside Out

**Trunks drove the car moderately fast.** Having two weakened individuals in his car, he didn't want to take any chances. While his own reaction time was quite impressive, the car's ability to respond limited such things. For now, he was moving down a long stretch of road recounting what he'd experienced in the past few days. It was only in hindsight that he realized when it had all begun, but when it was happening, he had no idea. Malachi seemed interested even though he suspected the other likely wouldn't be awake for much longer.

"That day, I remember waking up and feeling as if something wasn't right, but I couldn't pinpoint what it was. Everything looked the same, nothing was out of place, but my instincts were giving me a different story."

* * *

 **Trunks had woken up beside Terri—they'd started living together ages ago so this was not out of the ordinary.** Despite living together, they didn't actually see each other very often. Terri didn't have to get up early and it was her habit to climb into bed late and wake closer to the afternoon. Terri, at the moment, was dead to the world—she was a deep sleeper. He could make all the noise in the world and she would be utterly unbothered by it.

Asleep though she was, she was still there beside him, it was something that gave him comfort. Her vibrant red hair was quite tousled and her face peeked from under the heavy comforters, warmth was a fleeting thing for her. He wondered how long that would last; her being there. She seemed content, however and she'd never given him any signs of wanting to leave his side. He was concerned because he knew he should be doing more. He'd had the same thoughts more than once each time he woke up to the same scene and then he'd say to himself that things would be different only to continue doing the same thing. He sighed to himself, but then proceeded with his usual morning routine.

The strange feeling remained with him even as he turned on the shower. The bathroom was fine. Nothing was out of place there either. He took less time there, however, because he felt as if someone was watching him.

That was it, Trunks realized.

It felt like someone was watching him. Only, there was nothing to support this. When he stepped back into the hallway, he looked behind himself and found nothing. No one was hiding there behind the corner. He climbed downstairs to salvage something from the kitchen that he could call breakfast. He didn't claim to be an expert at putting food together, but it was passable. Usually, he'd just order out or go to some breakfast joint, but today he didn't feel up to it.

Eventually, he sat down at the dining room table with his phone out parsing through e-mails. Part way through all this, he heard some footsteps coming down the stairs. It immediately gave him alarm, but he knew moments later when he settled down that it was Terri. That was strange in itself, but he certainly wasn't going to do anything about it.

"Thought you left already," Terri said when she finally stepped into the dining room.

"Just about," he said back.

"Well, hello and good morning, stranger."

"Good morning," he said, knowing that she would appreciate such things.

She didn't like to wear too much going to bed and it was clear that she hadn't done much after getting up that day. She still donned her boy shorts and camisole. He hadn't seen those particular boy shorts and he was unprepared for the printed words on the back when she turned towards the kitchen area: "Fuck Me". Rather crass for someone so classy, but it wasn't as if anyone but him would see it. She caught him looking though because his eyes had lingered there admiring her plumpness and she gave him a playful grin before continuing into the kitchen.

Terri was never this frisky in the morning; he wondered why she was in such high spirits all of a sudden. She also wasn't a morning person either. Maybe she'd finally finished the book she'd been working on for some time now.

"Did something happen?" Trunks asked when she joined him at the table.

"Why do you ask?" Terri asked, in a tone that suggested that he might have asked the wrong question.

"You seem like you're in a good mood."

"Well, if I am, it _isn't_ because of you."

"Care to indulge me?" Trunks said ignoring the implication. It wasn't as if he could argue back anyway.

"Hm, I'd rather not. Besides, you're probably going to be late anyway."

"It's not as if I'm on the clock."

"But you do have a schedule to keep. Don't want to keep you from that."

"What if I just cancelled my plans for the day?"

"Please, you wouldn't do anything like that."

"I would do that if you asked me to," Trunks said looking at her steadily.

"I don't want you to. There's no need for all that. Besides, I'm sure it would be of some inconvenience to you."

"No, it wouldn't," he said putting his utensils down.

"Even if it didn't, I still have a lot of work to do, so if you excuse me—"

"Terri," Trunks said as she began to stand up, "Why don't you save it for tomorrow?"

"No, it doesn't work like that. If I feel like writing, then I should do it immediately while it's still on my mind."

"Alright," he said as he picked up his fork again. "Do what you need to."

"Wow," she said turning to him to again as she was standing, "You gave up pretty quickly."

"Well, I believe you. Isn't that what you've been asking me to do all the time—listen to you more?"

"You picked a fine time to start doing that. I'll be upstairs if you need anything."

With that, she left him, but he could barely eat afterwards. His food had gone cold anyway. Instead of leaving since he was in fact late, he walked upstairs and went to the room he knew she would be—the third room which contained a working PC and shelves upon shelves of books. There was a large window there as well, but she rarely opened it. Already, she was typing with her features being illuminated by the light of the monitor. She hadn't even looked up as he entered. He moved over to the blinds and opened them up to let the sun come in—this also didn't get her attention. He didn't interrupt her at all until there was a long pause in typing; she must have finished with what she desperately needed to write down.

"Terri," Trunks said causing the other to flinch with surprise.

"What are _you_ doing here? It's almost eleven. I know you must be late now," Terri said as she turned around in her seat to look at him.

"I think the company can manage to go one day without me," Trunks said smoothly.

"Don't be stupid—I really want to put something down today."

"Didn't sound like it before. Let's just go somewhere together."

"You're really starting to get on my nerves," Terri said as she returned to the computer.

Trunks moved even closer to her position and then wrapped her arms around her. "Oh, Terri, are you sure there's no way to persuade you?"

"Unless you plan on dragging me out of here," Terri said in a tone that sounded none too amused with his intrusion. "Which I know you could do if you wanted to—but allow me some dignity."

"I'll ask you one last time—

"The answer is no. That is final," she said icily.

She was no longer amused with his antics so he backed off. Usually she was, but she was different today.

"Fine. Wouldn't want to force you to do something you don't want to," Trunks said standing up again.

"Good," she said with a huff as she began to type.

Trunks watched her for a while and then quietly left. It was a great start to a not-so-great day. In fact, everything went wrong. He didn't bother showing up to a meeting he was already late for. Kiah had called in sick that day so he was utterly confused as to what needed to happen that day. He was forced to look through his e-mails to see what she'd sent him before in order to figure things out. Phones were ringing off the hook and he was in no mood to speak to people.

But he did. And he utterly hated it. All he could think about was Terri and the perpetual feeling of being watched. That hadn't changed in the least. There was a moment in which he stepped out of the office and everything was eerily silent, but the moment passed quickly and he wondered if it had ever happened at all. Later on that day, when he decided that whatever else needed to be dealt with could wait for tomorrow, he received a text from Terri.

"Sorry," the message read singularly.

He looked at it for a moment before texting back. "Don't be."

For the millionth time that day, he looked behind himself, but this time his eyes lingered and evaluated what was before him. After almost a minute, he finally decided that it was probably nothing, but it never left his mind. His father had always told him to trust his instincts. It was impossible for him to completely write it off.

When he came back, he found Terri right where he left her. No, she wasn't tired and no, she didn't want anything to eat. That was all that was said. In fact, he said nothing more to her for the rest of the day. He ate his food in silence and when he went to bed, Terri was already fast asleep.

The next few days went on like this in a dreary, confused manner. Kiah called out for almost a week and his work schedule was in shambles. It was quite unlike her to call out for so long, but he was sent a doctor's note and he knew she was dealing with food poisoning. He sent her flowers and wished her well. However, whenever he tried to call her, it went to voicemail. He didn't think anything of it. Terri was hardly talking to him as well. That was when he thought to call up his father. He'd mentioned a while ago that he had been trying to get in contact with him. He'd suggested that he leave him a voicemail, but Trunks was sure the other would never follow his advice.

In the morning as he sat at one of his usual diners, he searched through his missed calls looking for "Dad", but it never showed up. Then he simply called him. When he put the phone up to his ear, a loud screeching noise on the receiving end caused him to jerk back and drop the phone. He caught it before it hit the ground, but when he looked at the phone, the screen looked horribly cracked. When he blinked, however, it was fine.

"Am I losing my mind?" Trunks said to himself.

He went back to his contacts to find his father's number once again. Then his hand hovered over "Dad" for the longest time before thinking better of the whole thing. What would he say to him anyway? He'd probably wind up saying the wrong thing again and leaving their relationship even more strained than it already was. The waiter came over with his food just then, but Trunks looked up at him strangely. Hadn't he been eating before? Didn't he already have his plate?

"Are you sure that's mine," Trunks asked to the man.

"Yes, bacon, eggs, and grits, sir," the man said confidently.

"I thought I was…" The man looked at him with a raised eyebrow, but then Trunks waved him off. "That's fine. Thanks for bringing this to me."

The waiter thanked him back and then disappeared to the back. Sitting there with hot food once again, he tried to call Bra. This time, he heard a clicking noise before the call ended. Confused, he called again. This time a dark voice answered:

"No. You cannot."

Something about that voice immediately put him on edge not to mention that some stranger was answering his sister's phone. "Who are you?" Trunks asked.

He received no answer before the call ended abruptly. He stood up a little panicked by what had just happened. His eyes looked around the entire diner to see if anything was out of place. He knew he was making a scene because more and more people was looking at him with a confused expression. This didn't perturb him in the least. The waiter from before came back to his table with a concerned expression.

"Is there anything wrong, sir?"

"Yes, there is—but there's nothing you can do about it. Excuse me."

He left his food unfinished when he maneuvered his way out of the booth and stepped outside. He looked at his phone once again only to find that Bra's contact information was nowhere to be found. The same was the case with his father. Yet he could still sense them alive and well. His father, however, was not exactly sitting still; he was in the midst of a battle.

Hoping to find some answers, he took off for the skies and headed towards where he sensed him. He continued in this way for quite some time before he knew something wasn't right. It shouldn't take him this long to reach him. He looked a bit more closely at his surroundings and found in chilling realization that nothing was changing. He was virtually stuck.

He dashed back home again to find Terri. He ran upstairs calling her name, but it was as if she couldn't hear him. He found her in the same room sitting in front of the computer.

"Terri? Did you hear me calling you?" Trunks asked trying and failing at sounding calm.

For just a moment, for just a brief second, her form disappeared entirely and then it was as if nothing had happened. Her eyes turned to him, but he backed up from her.

" _You should just kill me now, Laputa."_

Trunks heard these words spoken, but it had not come from her yet it sounded as if it had emitted from somewhere in front of him. He knew it to be Malachi's voice though he could not reconcile its presence with what he was seeing. With the mention of that name, his mind began putting the pieces together.

"… _that is how I will fight back; with every bone in my body and with every fiber of my being!"_

None of this was real, he realized, and there was only one way he knew to break out of whatever trap he'd found himself in. It had been a while since he'd unleashed his power in such a way that it was destructive to the environment around him, but once he started, it wasn't too difficult to maintain and increase his output. Power sprang eagerly through his veins and radiated forth with startling clarity. It helped that he knew that he'd somehow been tricked by Laputa. He didn't know exactly what was going on, but he knew it couldn't be good.

* * *

When Trunks finished talking, he turned and found the other soundly asleep. He'd likely missed most of what he'd been saying, but no matter. Saying it aloud made it feel more real. As he looked over at his mother, sometimes he wondered if he was still dreaming. He'd never seen her like this before. Someone was always there to protect her before harm came to her. Now was different.

Getting back home would have taken far less time if he could safely fly them back, but he still did not want to risk it. It had been the early morning when they started out and it seemed at this pace they'd need another day to reach safety. They were far out of the way in the middle of nowhere. It gave him an eerie feeling to think that it was his hands that had taken them out there in the first place…Trunks knew it was dangerous to dwell on, but the fact remained.

He would stop somewhere at an exit to purchase something for everyone to eat. Trunks glanced back at Malachi. He'd not fared well whatever had happened for the past week. He looked frail and spent; not to mention the foul scent that was clearly coming from him. Trunks decided not to mention anything about it.

After another hour of driving, he finally took an exit. Neither of his occupants had stirred, but he knew it was only a matter of time. He dropped by a gas station and bought among other things a few bottles of water, orange juice, and some sandwiches. Every once in a while in public places, people might recognize him, but that was not the case this time thankfully—it was one less headache to worry about.

Trunks didn't think the other would be able to handle eating solid food so he had bought the water and orange juice for him. The rest was for him and his mother. By the time he got back into the car, Malachi had already roused himself.

"Why did we stop?" he questioned the other groggily with a slightly lifted head. "Are we back already?"

"You two should probably eat something. We have a long ways to go. It's only been an hour and a half," Trunks answered the befuddled man.

"Right," he said with a sigh as he placed his head back down again.

"Got you some water," Trunks said passing one of them back to him. Malachi didn't grab it immediately. "Here, take it," Trunks said impatiently. Annoyed, he looked back when the other didn't do this. Then paused as he watched the other staring at it fearfully. After a moment, Malachi noticed him looking and then just like that his expression became guarded as he snatched the bottle out of his hand and then threw the bottle out of the open window with surprising strength.

"What the hell?" Trunks exclaimed.

Malachi decided not to indulge him with an answer. "Anything else?"

Trunks thought about confronting the other further, but then thought better of it. He'd rather not waste energy on arguments. "I don't know—do you have a thing against orange juice as well?"

"Orange juice is fine," Malachi said sitting up.

Before handing it back, he opened the top for him and Malachi made no comment about this not even a word of thanks. Trunks shook his head wondering why he was even bothering. At the very least, he drank the orange juice without further fuss and Trunks headed back out to the road.

Driving in utter silence had been fine when the other two were asleep, but now that wasn't the case and Trunks could practically feel Malachi's eyes burning a hole through the seat. Yet, when he looked through the rear-view mirror, he saw the other simply looking out the window. Maybe it was just his imagination.

"So how are you feeling?" Trunks asked having to elevate his voice over the sound of wind pushing by.

"Shitty. You wouldn't happen to have anything more substantial than orange juice, would you?"

"I might, but it's not for you. It wouldn't be a good idea to have too much, too fast—it'd be counterproductive, trust me."

"What's this? Convenient working medical knowledge?"

"No," Trunks said with a grin, "A convenient access to the internet through my phone."

"Hm, clever. I'd do the same if I had one on me. I feel utterly naked without that thing. Come to think of it—I have no idea where I put it," Malachi said going off on a tangent. "I really hope I didn't do anything stupid with it like…drop it somewhere," he finished with a sigh.

"Just get another one," Trunks said with a shrug not understanding the dilemma.

"No—I want that one. It's way too expensive to be losing so wantonly. I couldn't buy _that_ phone again. It's rare, limited edition, and no one makes it anymore."

"I'm guessing not Capsule Corp."

"No offense, but no. CC isn't exactly known for their phones."

"None taken," Trunks said after a moment. He was right anyway. Capsule Corporation was such a large venture that it would be impossible to keep up with every single aspect of technology. Cutting edge though they were, phones were an afterthought.

The drive continued in silence for some time before Malachi spoke up again. "I can't believe I've actually met a person like you," he began causing the other to raise eyebrow. "You can really sit in utter silence for this long without going crazy—you gonna' turn on the radio or what?"

"Oh," Trunks said realizing what the other was talking about. "I was just doing it for you two. Didn't want to wake you prematurely."

"Silence is way more disturbing than sound."

Trunks turned on the radio and immediately the car became filled with the voice of Dan Reynolds from Imagine Dragons singing their new single.

"Want me to change it?" Trunks asked the other.

"For what? Music is music. Besides, I like this band."

"Go figure," Trunks said almost to himself.

"They've changed a lot since they debuted, haven't they?"

"I guess," Trunks said—he'd hardly kept up with this particular band.

"They have more of an electro-pop feel—hope they haven't alienated their core audience."

"Now that you mention it," Trunks began as he listened to the song further. The voice sounded familiar, he must have heard it somewhere else.

The sound of the radio filled out the empty space between them. Trunks no longer imagined the other staring exclusively at him and he grew a bit more comfortable. He'd been on edge for a while. He didn't like being in the dark about things, but he was slowly piecing things together in his mind. Malachi had something to say each time a different song came on—some nugget of information or "did you knows". He supposed he shouldn't be surprised, but it was almost getting to be annoying. He wasn't overly interested in knowing the inside scoop of people he would probably never meet.

As the day wore on, Malachi eventually returned to his previous position but not before Trunks gave him a cup of apple sauce. He ate it without question and promptly fell asleep. Once Trunks knew the other was asleep, he turned down the volume of the radio and sped up a bit more on the road. It was difficult not to speed when he still had so many more miles ahead of him.

It wasn't too long before his mother finally started coming around—this Trunks had been anticipating for some time.

"Mom?" Trunks said as she slowly opened her eyes.

When she seemed to recognize that it was him, she moved back from him frantically and then started clawing for the door. Trunks was forced to pull over just in case she managed to get out.

"Mom, calm down! It's me—not Laputa."

She paused and then looked at him again with eyes that seemed to penetrate straight through him. "I can't tell if you're lying or not. Laputa, he did a good job impersonating you."

"How can I convince you?" Trunks asked anxiously.

"If only I had my scanner, but, of course, that bastard made sure I had nothing on me when he took me."

"Mom, I'm really sorry what he—what I did to you."

"Now, there's no need for all that," Bulma said with a sigh. "You just, Laputa just caught us all unawares. Do you know anything about what happened to Malachi? He's been missing and—

"He's in the backseat," Trunks cut across her. "He was the first person I saw when I broke free of Laputa's control."

Trunks started driving again once he knew she was calm once again. None of it made him feel any better about things. What had he done to his own mother to make her scared of him? He never wanted to see that again and he never again wanted to be the reason for it.

"Oh, no, honey, what the hell happened to him?" Bulma said as she looked to the backseat, "And that awful odor…"

"Mom, how long has he been missing?"

"Over a week," Bulma said, "Jensen's been worried sick. He kept on believing he had been kidnapped when everyone else thought differently."

"So Laputa's held him captive for that long? For what purpose?"

"My guess? To use him once again as a host. Maybe after the separation it's harder to enter again or maybe it's something else altogether. Who knows how that creature thinks?" Bulma said with a shrug. She was still looking at Malachi. "If it ain't one thing, it's another with him. And I bet Bra will still be mad at him no matter what excuse he comes up with."

"What are you talking about?" Trunks asked.

"He promised to ask for her hand in marriage last week. When he disappeared before he could do this, she simply believed he ran off, not being ready for commitment. If I were in Bra's shoes, I'd probably think the same." Then she turned back around in her seat. "We should stop at a hotel at some point. I would hate to have to spend the night in a car."

She must have noticed the GPS he was using and noted how much longer they had versus how much time left they had in the day. He turned down the radio a little more so that they didn't have to talk in raised voices. Bulma began referring to a conversation they had at a café, but Trunks had no idea what she was talking about. It was in that moment, that they both knew that she'd been speaking to Laputa the entire time. She asked if he knew about going to a restaurant with his father, Terri, and Malachi and once again he drew a blank. Laputa had been with Trunks for quite some time it seemed. Likely Terri would be able to definitively say when that was the case, but Trunks didn't want to call her just yet. At the moment, he sensed that she was relaxed and in good spirits, no need to saddle her with the news. Besides, he'd rather tell her in person.

"What did we talk about at the café?" Trunks asked.

"Well," Bulma began, "What I've been working on for over a year now," she said.

To her, it might have been a rehashing, but Trunks was intrigued. It was something they hadn't done in a while—just talk about things that others probably wouldn't understand. Trunks didn't fancy himself nearly as accomplished as his mother, but he could understand her. He could appreciate the work she was doing. Because of her innovations, she was often an outcast in her own traditional circles and though she had friends, they were not the kind in which she could discuss these matters with. At least, that was what Trunks assumed. He couldn't imagine his father being able to add very much to the discussion once she was in her element. The same could be said the other way around. It was always a mystery to him how that relationship even worked when in many aspects they were polar opposites of each other.

Growing up in that household, he learned things fairly quickly. Multiple walk-ins on explicit activities, blazing anger from both sides, and arguments that were too loud to ignore half the time were all par for the course. But aside from that, his father had wanted to groom him into a fighter just like he was and his mother had wanted to groom him to be intellectually capable of running a large corporation that dealt primarily in engineering and innovations. And though he had first leaned towards his father because he wanted to impress him and because he clearly had a knack for it, in the end, he found science to be far more fulfilling. He always felt like he had to choose one over the other even though as he grew older, he knew that it didn't have to be that way.

Fighting was a pastime. A hobby that he shared with Goten every once in a while, but he could never justify delving so deeply into it. Years upon years had gone by and the Earth had not been in peril the entire time. He felt he could contribute more to the world via Capsule Corp than following along the same route as his father who knew no other way to live.

Now, as he sat talking about what could be done with what was essentially a brand new power storage that was now proprietary—they could hold an even stronger grasp in the world of technology. It was so powerful and efficient that it could serve as a power source. She had created a device that could contain almost an infinite amount of power and it could fit in the palm of one's hand.

They discussed the implications of such a device for what felt like hours. During that time, Trunks thought to call Vegeta to let him know that all was well. His call went unanswered twice before deciding that perhaps Bra was a better choice. Upon answering, she was beyond angry at him and it made him wonder what other things Laputa had been up to. Luckily Bulma had been there or else the conversation would have gone nowhere. He was glad when the call ended as he took a deep breath afterwards.

"It's alright," Bulma reassured him, "She just needs some time."

"I have no idea what we're up against. How can we can make sure this doesn't happen again?"

Bulma shook her head and then looked out the window. "All we can do is be a bit more vigilant. Other than that…"

"Are you saying there's no way to stop him?"

"I'm saying I don't know. But that doesn't mean I'll give up trying." This time she looked towards him with a determined look in her eyes.

That was all he needed to hear. Even if it wasn't a definitive solution, he was put at ease. They were quiet for a while before conversation could be drummed up again. They picked up right where they left off about Bulma's new device and the two of them continued in this way for the majority of the day, stopping a few times to buy a few things namely things that Malachi might need later. Bulma suggested vitamins and more fruit and vegetable. Malachi awoke intermittently throughout the day and each time, she would make sure that he had something to eat before he dozed off again. Unlike him, Malachi didn't make a fuss when she handed him things. Though at some points, Malachi listened in on their conversation, he had nothing of value to add so he was quiet for most of the time they were out on the road.

The day was balmy, but turned cold as the sun disappeared. By then, they'd decided on a hotel to stop by. They were now six hours away from home. If they drove through the night, they'd get there in the morning, but Bulma insisted on stopping and Malachi desperately needed to get cleaned up somewhere sooner rather than later for everyone's benefit.

No sooner had they stepped into the room, Malachi made a beeline for the bathroom and Trunks didn't see the other for quite some time. Meanwhile, Bulma ordered some food from a nearby Chinese takeout and Trunks had settled down on one of the beds, turning on the television. He realized after a moment, that there were only two beds and three of them. He would likely have to sleep on the floor. His mom had naturally sat down on the other bed still on the phone making a massive order. Beside her were things she'd bought for Malachi; bandages and the like. Silently, he wondered how much trouble it would be to get him to agree to such things. He didn't exactly seem in the best of moods despite Trunks making a conscious effort to not show any abrasiveness.

When she finished on the phone, she sat back further onto the bed with a sigh. "All we have to do now is wait," she said grinning. "If this was under normal circumstances, I'd say we were on a road trip."

"Yeah, a strange road trip with only you and Malachi to keep me company. Not that I really know what those feel like."

"I could never get your father to do it. Why drive when you can fly and get anywhere you want in the world in far less time? We would argue back and forth about it every time it came time for summer break."

"Just driving this long is tiring—I doubt we're missing anything."

"You too?" Bulma said with a huff. "It's not the destination, you know."

"Yes, I figured as much, but I can't imagine it being remotely fun if we were all stuck in a car for hours and hours."

"Don't knock it if you've never tried," Bulma said unperturbed by him.

"You ever been on one with your own parents?" he asked.

"Actually—no," Bulma said sheepishly. "If we ever went on a trip, we just flew there on a ship or a plane."

"So how do you know—"

"It just _looks_ like fun," Bulma said.

"It's just something you haven't done before," Trunks said knowingly, "Then once you do, you'll immediately regret it and wonder why you pushed for it so hard in the first place."

Bulma sighed exasperatedly, "Maybe you're right, but a girl can dream."

"You know who could really benefit from a road trip," Trunks began.

Bulma seemed to be on the same wavelength as she tilted her head towards the bathroom. The shower had been going for a good half hour and it was still on. "Is this you approving of him and Bra?" she asked.

"Anyone that can make her happy is fine with me. Just 'cus I didn't exactly get along with him didn't mean that I was against them in the first place."

Just then Malachi stepped out of the bathroom donning the new outfit that Bulma had gotten for him—a bright orange blouse with white polka dots and khaki pants. It was a far cry from his usual dark streetwear. Trunks wondered if Bulma knew this and was getting kick out of it or if she honestly thought Malachi generally wore bright clothing.

"Took you long enough," Bulma said teasingly.

"And here I thought I was cutting it short," Malachi replied with some mirth.

At the very least, he seemed in better spirits, but his thoughts were cut short when he spoke again.

"I'd rather sleep out in the car for the night, if it isn't too much trouble," Malachi said.

"Oh, you don't have to do that. Trunks can—"

"No, it's alright. Besides, there's only two beds and I don't mind," Malachi interrupted Bulma. He looked to Trunks then. "Could you unlock the door?"

Trunks felt Bulma's eyes on him as if he was going to somehow convince the other to reconsider. His mother was sorely mistaken—he held little sway over Malachi's decisions. "So be it," he said much to his mother's annoyance, he knew.

That was that. It was the last contact he had with Malachi that night.

"Really?" Bulma said, "You're just going to let him do that? We got this entire room so someone can go sleep in the car?"

"Just leave him be," Trunks said wearily.

"Well, I still need to bandage him up and make sure he gets some food," Bulma said sitting back against the bed.

There was no stopping her from doing those things, Trunks knew, and he didn't even begin to. It was better this way. Truthfully, he really didn't want to sleep on the floor or beside anyone who wasn't Terri. He'd never been made to do anything like that before and he hadn't wanted to start then. In fact, he'd briefly considered getting a different room altogether.

In the meantime, they waited for the food. He knew she'd ordered this much for his sake. She had her share and then he had the rest. He did not eat nearly as quickly as his father preferring instead to have his fill in a less rushed fashion. Though he'd seen his father do it often enough, he found he got more out of it by just eating "normally" or at least how he saw his mother deal with her food. He'd been taught manners early on anyways. It meant that he took longer than most when it came to dinner. He wasn't always extraordinarily hungry at every meal of the day—it was a sporadic thing that happened from time to time. For the most part, he was fine with a normal earthling portion. Clearly, this was not the case now. How his mother knew when that was the case or not for him was always a mystery.

"I'll be back in a few—I'm going to check on him," Bulma said.

"Good luck," Trunks said between mouthfuls.

She took with her food and bandages. Trunks was sure his mother could handle herself, but Malachi had been acting strangely as of late. He wondered if he should be a bit more watchful of him. Trunks tried to reason with himself, but essentially there really was nothing he could think of that justified what he did next other than the fact that he was curious. After finishing off his food, he stepped closer to the large window of the place which had curtains covering it. The car sat right in front of the room in the parking lot—it was close enough for him to hear fairly well.

When he glanced outside, he noted that they were both in the back of the car. Bulma was already bandaging him and he seemed to have no issue at all with this fact.

"Do you know how long you were in there?" his mother asked.

"No," he said singularly.

"It must have been over a week. That was as long as you were missing."

"Time was hard to keep up with, but I can definitely see it being a week. It felt longer."

"I see," Bulma said with a nod, "Perfectly normal."

Nothing more was said for a while as Bulma continued her endeavor.

"I heard you didn't like bottles of water," Bulma said breaking the silence.

"You heard? Or did Trunks just tell you that?"

"I'm sure it's obvious how I know."

There was more silence. Trunks couldn't imagine Malachi giving her a straight answer to such a question. Malachi hadn't struck him as someone who was open about himself.

"It's just you and me—there's no one here you have to impress."

"There's you," Malachi finally said.

"I won't judge you. I promise."

"Quite a bold claim to be making so wantonly. Convenient even."

"I don't say things like that unless I really mean it," Bulma reassured him, "Have I ever given you reason to doubt that?"

He didn't answer immediately, but he did so eventually. "No, I suppose not." He paused before speaking again. "There's something I've been meaning to tell you, but I keep putting it off."

"Well, you have my curiosity piqued."

"Thank you for saving my life."

"The sentiment is very much appreciated, but you don't have to thank me. It was something I was going to do anyway. There's no way I was going to let anything happen to you if I could help it."

"It's not a thing that people generally do for others—it's important that I show my appreciation."

"The best way you can do that is by trusting me. I can't help you if you don't tell me things."

This time there was a longer pause as Trunks imagined his mother waiting for his response.

"I trust you."

"You do?" Bulma said as if challenging the other.

"Yes," he said without hesitation.

"Well then, tell me about that bottle of water—the one you felt the need to throw out a window for no apparent reason."

All Trunks could hear were the words, but he could not see their expressions. He wondered how she had managed to even get this far with the stubborn man, but then he supposed she had experience in dealing with that type.

"So it's back to that," Malachi said noticing her change in topic. "It just didn't sit well with me. He had no issue letting me starve, but dehydration? Of course not. He didn't actually want me to die so he made sure to force down at least one bottle of water at regular intervals. Once a day? Once every other day? Who knows? It always felt like…I was drowning because I couldn't move, not even my head since he had me pinned to a wall. I know it was him and not Trunks, but it was only in spirit not appearance. And when your son handed me that damn bottle, I was waiting for him to unscrew it, toss the top away, and commence in his usual way. I forgot where I was for a moment and Trunks saw me…looking like that; as if I was afraid. Then I panicked and threw it out the window, alright? It won't happen again."

"Malachi," Bulma said clearly with some surprise in her tone. "I'm not upset with you—it's completely understandable. I just wanted to know so that I could help you."

"Now you know. And very few people can say that, I assure you."

"I brought something with me."

"Planning to annoy me to death?" Malachi asked.

"No, it's just harmless little me holding a bottle of water. Maybe it's too soon, but I did bring a cup as well. We can use that as well, but water is vital for you right now."

"Just give it to me," Malachi said impatiently.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," Malachi answered exasperatedly.

"Are you sure, you're sure? Remember, I won't judge you and you don't have to impress me."

"I know," he replied in calmer tones. "I'm fine—or at least, I can handle a bit of plastic filled with water."

This pause was longer than all the rest and Trunks could imagine Malachi doing the thing he said he was going to do.

"The whole thing?" Bulma asked with a chuckle.

"Done," he said soon after.

"That was easier than I thought," Bulma said taking a deep breath. "I also brought you some food and vitamins."

"What kind of food?" Malachi asked. "Probably not the Chinese takeout I saw go to the door."

"Well, it's good that you still have an appetite, but it's too soon to be eating that kind of stuff—too greasy, trust me. You won't be able to tolerate it."

"Then I guess more sick people food."

"Better to be safe than sorry. Yogurt and a banana. Also more water, 'cus you still should take some vitamins."

"Alright, since you're pulling my leg."

Trunks could hear his mother laughing at this. She'd pretty much done what she'd gone out to do. A task that was supposed to be impossible was made easy by his mother—he supposed that that was what she was known for. It was just as impossible to live up to her name. No matter what accomplishments he might have had in the business arena, nothing could quite compare to his mother's genius. Not that he was in any real competition with her, but Trunks knew where he stood in comparison.

He zoned out for a moment attending his phone again as the others still conversed in the car, but his ears perked back up when it became interesting again.

"You can't honestly believe he was being serious about that," Bulma said with some force behind her tone.

"Why would he lie about that? I think he was being truthful. These migraines; there's really no explanation for them. And this makes sense."

"I refuse to believe that you could lose your life at any arbitrary time."

"That's the price I have to pay for separating from him."

"I'll figure this out, don't worry."

"I'm not the one who's worried," Malachi said, "I don't see how this changes things. Life has always been unpredictable. No one ever knows when their time is near; it just happens and there's nothing anyone can do about it. This simply reiterates what I already know."

"What did I tell you?" Bulma said in frustrated tones. "You don't need to impress me. You can say that you're scared—"

"I'm not afraid. Not of that. But telling you—it's better than telling no one at all. I don't want people to panic or be alarmed, but I do believe what he said is true. I don't think I'm in any danger now."

"And how do you know that?"

"It just…feels that way."

"Not exactly scientific. Death doesn't wait for when someone feels comfortable about it or not. It could happen today or tomorrow."

"And if that happened to be the case, then the world would soon move on without me. It's like I said, everything that I care about will be taken cared of. I've written a detailed will that now includes Machi. Haven't gotten around to Jensen yet, but I will soon."

"You've really sat down and thought about that? "

"I have for a long time. I have a lot of assets and I don't want it to fall into ruin just because I'm not there to stop it. Everything would be orderly whenever the time comes."

"I guess that's a good idea. I haven't even drawn up mine. It's just…not something I like to think about."

"Maybe you've spent too much time around those who are invincible."

"Who Vegeta? Goku? They've died plenty of times. But now it's different. Nothing can bring you back once you die. That's been something that's been hard to come to grips with."

"I'm not sure I follow, but it is difficult to come to terms with one's mortality."

"I feel like we've gone off on a tangent," she said with a laugh.

"Not really. We were just talking about what Laputa said."

"Do you—are you feeling one of those headaches again?"

"Yes," he said singularly. "Rarely am I without it."

"That's not good at all. I'm still working on something that could help you manage the pain."

"So I've heard from Bra."

"Of course she told you—even before I'd actually started work on it."

"I'm glad it's true. To be honest," Malachi began as his tone became darker, "Sometimes I just feel like ripping my head off as if it wasn't utterly essential to my continued living."

"Sounds like it's getting worse," Bulma said quietly. There was more silence before she spoke again. "On that note, however, I think I've bothered you long enough. You got your water, food, bandages, and vitamins. My job is done."

"Thank you for doing all this."

"I don't think I've been thanked this much in a long time," she said with a laugh.

"Well, it's the least I can do."

Bulma likely took the time now to climb out of the car as she sounded a bit closer to the house when she spoke again. "Good night, Malachi."

"You as well."

When Trunks heard the door close, he moved back to the bed and turned back up the volume on the television. By the time his mother stepped back inside, he left no evidence of his eavesdropping.

"How did it go?" he asked casually.

"Just as well as I thought," Bulma said back. "We still have a long drive ahead of us tomorrow so I don't want you staying up all night watching TV. I want to start early. The sooner we get back home, the better."

Trunks wasn't altogether sure what the big rush was, but he knew better than to say something contrary to what she was asking of him. It was no bother to him anyways. He was ready for this entire debacle to be over. Once they did get back, however, Trunks doubted there would be anything they could do. Laputa was gone yet again. They were back at square one as far as he was concerned. Unless there was something he was missing, there was practically no way to fight back against Laputa if he was always ten steps ahead of them.


	40. Laputa's Move

**Vegeta was hardly ready for Laputa's initial aggressive assault.** In fact, he was still reeling from the fact that his own son was attacking him so mercilessly. Laputa held nothing back as he dished out a plethora of punches and kicks. Vegeta took all of them and he was knocked to the ground in record time.

"This is going to be far easier than I thought!" Laputa called out teasingly to the other from far above.

The Saiyan Prince took his time sitting up. The pain in his chest would not let up. In fact, it had become far more palpable. He shoved such sensations to the back of his mind knowing that he was in the midst of battle and he was not doing so well. He wasn't Trunks any longer, but someone possessed. He hoped Trunks wouldn't hold it against him if he fought more seriously. Soon he was shooting through the air towards Laputa's position and they began trading blows. Vegeta had decided that he would not ascend unless absolutely necessary. Surely, he could best the other in skill alone.

After a few minutes of hand-to-hand combat, Vegeta felt as if he was getting nowhere. The other didn't seem to be tiring and he gave all the impression that he was enjoying this fight a little too much. He quickly conjured a ki blast and aimed it for his face, but Laputa easily evaded as if he knew it was coming all along. Vegeta blocked a kick with his forearm and launched a gut shot of his own with a fist only for it to be knocked away. He felt the sharp pang of Laputa's retaliating uppercut which did not miss. Had Trunks always been this quick? Vegeta didn't react to taking the hit and instead chose to ignore it, moving immediately into another body shot with first his leg and then his fist. His limbs met air and he received another hefty punch across his face causing blood to flow from his mouth. Still unfazed, Vegeta continued his physical assault, but he found himself missing his mark more and more. He could hear Laputa laughing as he snuck in another quick one across his face.

Vegeta decided to put some distance between them to catch his bearings. For a moment, he could see Trunks utterly unaffected by the last ten minutes of non-stop attacks. His mocking grin was beginning to tick him off. He, on the other hand, was showing clear signs of fatigue and injury.

"Laugh while you still can, Laputa, but I've only just started," Vegeta declared.

"Is that right? From where I stand, maybe you need to stop while you're still ahead. Face it, Vegeta, you care too much about this host to put any real effort into this. What's wrong? Scared he might pull away from you even more than he already has?"

"You don't know anything about him or me—You're not fooling anyone here."

"I know you've already decided that you won't go past your first threshold in this battle. I know that you're already weakening. You're defeat is inevitable."

Vegeta was no longer paying attention to the other as he began to gather his ki into a focal point. He spread his arms outward to the side as he summoned a rush of ki to his form. He cried out from the initial strain of its creation.

"Final Flash!" Vegeta's voice rang out as he shot out a fiercely electrified column of energy towards Laputa.

He knew Laputa would dodge and with a snap of his finger, Vegeta willed his blast to change direction and strike Laputa head on. Vegeta was sure that it had struck home as he heard something landing hard into the ground below. Vegeta gritted his teeth as his chest throbbed in shattering pain. This time, he couldn't stop himself from grasping at his wound. He knew something was wrong, but he didn't want to think about it. He didn't want to deal with it until he was sure Laputa was dealt with.

"Laputa!" Vegeta yelled out threateningly, "Show yourself! I know you're not done yet!"

Vegeta found himself moving out of the way of two ki blasts. He shot one of his own into the dust for good measure. Then, a split second later, Laputa burst through the dust cloud below unleashing a startling amount of ki blasts all at once. It was difficult to evade all of them so he wound up deflecting some just as Laputa began on yet another frontal assault. There was little pretense this time and Vegeta found himself in a physical struggle against Laputa. He was no longer thinking, but allowing his own instincts to take over as he simply reacted to the attacks being dished out. He was able to get in quite a bit hits, but just like before he began taking more and more of them. He was finding it difficult to catch his breath and his vision was starting to play tricks on him.

"You stubborn little Saiyan. You're too stupid to understand that you've already lost!" Laputa shouted between bouts of rapid fire kicks and punches.

Vegeta couldn't waste his breath responding so he simply ignored him altogether. That was when Laputa was finally able to land a blow squarely at the wound which was giving him so much trouble. He felt his body go limp without his permission and sail back into the ground with disturbing force. When he tried to sit up, he started coughing uncontrollably and each time blood splattered forth littering both his chin and his clothes. He didn't understand what was happening to him and losing this battle was utterly unfathomable to the Saiyan Prince. He cried out in frustration as raw energy spiraled around him, electrifying and turning yellow.

And then it disappeared. His energy left him completely as he was unable to sustain it for long.

"Yes, do you feel it now, you fool? You've already lost," Laputa said in the distance.

His voice sounded echoic as he fell back onto the ground in inexplicable weakness. "Wh-what…" Vegeta managed to say. He was wracked once more with a cough making it even more difficult to speak as blood sputtered forth.

"It was a clean blast right through your heart. It's a miracle you're still breathing. They do say Saiyan's are annoyingly stubborn. The outcome was decided even before the battle began."

Vegeta's eyes grew wide with horror as he heard this and the world was quickly dimming around him. _No! Not now! It's too…It's far too…_

"It was a valiant effort, Saiyan, but in the end, I win. I always win."

Vegeta heard the other take off into the sky leaving him abruptly. The most he could manage was a small twitch of his fingers. Bulma. Where was she? Was she alright? Was she somewhere dark and alone? The thought of her being hurt in any way fueled his desperation.

"Grandpa!" Jensen's tiny voice cried out cutting though his fading thoughts.

He felt his tiny form near him and he could barely make him out in the darkness. He vaguely remembered telling the boy to run back to the house. Vegeta was in no position to protest. In fact, he could barely move at all and certainly not speak. He heard his tears, his pleading voice asking him to keep living.

"Please don't die!" the little boy kept shouting.

Often, one didn't have a choice in the matter. Though Vegeta held on as hard as he could, he knew how fruitless it was to struggle. No one could save him. Perhaps Dende could, but he was too far away, he wouldn't make it in time. There were no senzu beans. There were no Dragon Balls. When he closed his eyes, he didn't expect to be waking up ever again.

* * *

 **Vegeta felt something light but just heavy enough to notice across his midsection.** When he cracked open his eyes, he could see Jensen lying over him. He could see his tearstained face and he seemed to be asleep. The pain was gone. All of it. He breathed easily despite what he knew to have happened. It made so little sense to him that he began to wonder if it had all been a dream, some elaborate trick on Laputa's part.

Slowly, he sat up which was enough to wake the small boy from his apparent slumber. All was quiet and the day was under full sway when Jensen fully awakened and looked at him wide eyed.

"You're alive!" Jensen shouted enthusiastically.

"Yeah, I noticed—" He was cutoff when the boy quickly wrapped his arms around him as tightly as he could muster.

"I'm so glad," Jensen blubbered.

Vegeta didn't let this go on for very long before pulling the child off of him. "It doesn't make any sense. Did you do something?" he asked.

Jensen looked up at him still sitting on the ground with bent knees. "I-I don't know. Maybe?"

"You either did or didn't," Vegeta said steadily.

"I guess I did, but I-I don't know how. I-I don't know what happened…" Jensen sputtered, "I'm sorry, I'm—"

"There's no need to apologize," Vegeta interrupted, trying to make his tone sound a bit more pleasant. He placed a hand on his head. "I owe you my life." Jensen seemed to have gone mute as he gazed at the other with a look of wonderment.

Vegeta climbed to his feet easily realizing that all injuries he'd sustained during that fight was completely healed as if nothing had happened in the first place. The only evidence left were the ample bloodstains. Looking over at Jensen, he watched as he looked down probably in curiosity at his own hands as if trying to discover something.

"C'mon, kid, let's see how your mother is doing."

"Okay," Jensen said as he ran to catch up to Vegeta who was already retreating to the house.

They didn't have to go far to behold Bra. She'd recently chanced stepping outside and had been making her way towards them. She was clearly excited to see him as she quickly bridged the gap between them and then grappling him unabashedly into an embrace.

"I thought the worst," she said quietly as she pulled away. "I thought you were—

"Were it not for Jensen, things would have ended differently," Vegeta said indicating the boy who stood beside him now strangely bashful as he looked to the ground.

A look of surprise came to her face as her eyes turned to him.

"Malachi was right—Trunks was under Laputa's control for who knows how long."

"Are you serious? I talked to him recently and…" Her eyebrows furrowed at this. "That sick bastard. I should have known something wasn't right. Trunks answering my call so quickly, acting all concerned. He probably got off on that. Well?" Bra asked haughtily, clearly already in a mood, "Did you get him?"

At the mention of this as his mind went over his utter defeat, he clenched his hands. "No—he got away from me, but I don't doubt that he will return. I was looking for your mother earlier; I know who has her and Malachi."

"Wait a minute," Bra said stepping back, "You mean Malachi's been captured this whole time? For over a week? And now Mom…? Do you have _any_ idea where they are?"

"Laputa is able to keep his ki signature well hidden. Your guess is as good as mine."

"So we're completely blind right now and Laputa has the upper hand—Is that what you're saying?" Bra asked looking away from him.

"For now," Vegeta conceded.

That was when they were interrupted by Malachi or to be more specific, Bra's ringtone which just so happened to be one of his songs. Vegeta noted that she'd changed it recently. Out of habit, she, at the very least, looked at the caller ID. Then she answered immediately.

"Trunks? Are you seriously calling me right now, asswipe? I _know_ who you are. That's just like you, isn't it? Hiding like a rat, scurrying off to your little hole. Once of my father is through with you, you're gonna' wish you never stepped foot on this planet."

"Bra, calm down. It's me, Trunks—the real one." Vegeta heard him say over the phone.

"You think I'm going to fall for _that_? What the hell did you do with Malachi? You better not have harmed in any way or I _swear_ you'll have more than just my father to deal with." She was gripping the phone hard and sparks flickered around her.

Jensen who'd been beside him, quickly moved behind him.

Instead of Trunks continuing to convince Bra, he handed the phone off to someone else; Vegeta heard Bulma's voice as clear as day. "It's okay—I felt the same exact way when I first saw him. But I'm fine and so is Malachi. I'd put him on the phone, but he's resting."

"Is he alright?" Bra asked.

"I won't lie to you. He's not in the best condition, but it's not life-threatening. You can rest easy. Trunks saved us—we're coming back as we speak. We're driving because Malachi's a bit too compromised to risk that sort of thing. Is your Dad there? Put him on the phone."

"Here," Bra said as she handed off the phone.

He took it and placed the small pink phone against his ear. "It's really you, huh," he said.

"It's me. The one and only," Bulma replied. "Listen—"

"He didn't hurt you, did he?"

"No, he didn't get to me at all. I'd just gotten there."

"I see."

He'd been worried all that time. In fact, more than worried. He was relieved to hear her voice again after so long. She was well—he could hear it in her voice—she'd not been lying. What once felt like an impossible situation now became doable. He could focus again on the real problem at hand.

"Listen, Vegeta, Laputa slipped through our fingers. As soon as he left Trunks, he was nowhere to be found. I'm not even sure if I'm understanding his motives anymore. We're kind of up a creek without a paddle."

"Laputa will show himself again. I know it. This time, we all have to be prepared. We all have to be vigilant. He can take people in their sleep and imitate people's personalities."

"We also don't know if he'll keep dealing with us or decide to try someone different."

"That I can't be sure about, but I do know that someone wasting so much time messing around with us still wants something. I have a feeling he won't give up easily."

"Me either. The sooner we get home the better."

Vegeta passed the phone back to Bra satisfied now that things had not gone as bad as it could have. He continued inside the house with Jensen following along wracking his mind about Laputa's motives. Perhaps it wasn't meant to be understood by the likes of him. Maybe Laputa truly did possess vast knowledge. Perhaps his intelligence was on a plane far beyond what he could imagine, incomprehensible to the layman. Or maybe Laputa was completely idiotic having learned little from his long life; a lost soul who had never connected with anyone despite having the ability to possess others. Anyone could see the strange fixation he seemed to have on Malachi. Perhaps this could be used to his advantage.

* * *

 **AN:** Hello, my wonderful audience. Sorry for the shortness of this chapter, but that was really all I wanted to write in this chapter. Instead of continuing to stare at this screen wondering if I should somehow make it longer, I'll leave you with this for the time being. Have a good Halloween if you celebrate it. I'll probably be sitting back with some popcorn and watching scary movies this weekend and definitely Stranger Things.

 **WildHeart44:** Laputa certainly didn't want to maim someone he was planning on possessing. So, yeah, psychological works best for his purposes. If you think about it, Terri wasn't even in that last chapter—just an illusion of her. But yeah, I really wanted to put in some Bulma and Trunks time though it's pure conjecture how they actually act around each other.

 **SierraLarson:** Thanks. They're becoming more like a family. Also, I'm always wondering about their location as well—you're not the only one. Clearly, DBZ takes place on Earth, but they never refer to Earthly locations not even countries. I always imagined it was some alternate version of Earth.


	41. Off-season

**Yamcha's head leaned against the bedpost with eyes closed in apparent bliss as the young blonde woman he'd come to know as Ariel worked him skillfully underneath the covers.** His phone began ringing, but he ignored it until it went silent not at all in the mood for taking calls. Then it rang again and then for a third time as it went through yet another cycle of ringing before he finally reached out to it.

"You better not pick that up," Ariel said, stopping her previous activities.

"Or you'll do what," he said back nonchalantly as he picked it up and answered without waiting for her reply.

"Are you Yamcha?" a man's voice asked.

The voice was completely unfamiliar, but he spoke as if he knew him. "Think you got the wrong number, pal."

"You are Yamcha, are you not?"

"Alright, who is this? Is this another prank? Who put you up to it?"

"This is Derrick."

Yamcha waited for the other to continue, but he was met with only silence. "Okay…Is that supposed to mean something to me?"

"Malachi's agent," Derrick further explained.

Ariel huffed exasperatedly from underneath the covers and pulled away from him. He lifted the covers to peek under, but she moved completely from under the covers and she wore an annoyed expression. Yamcha only shrugged dismissively at her.

"I had no idea you had my number," he replied.

"I have the number to anyone Malachi associates with."

"You make it sound like we're business partners or something. What do you want anyway?"

"Malachi's whereabouts. I've called a number of his contacts, but no one seems to pick up. And, of course, I called his phone, but it always sends me to voicemail. So far, _you're_ the only one who's answered. Do you have any inkling as to where he might be?"

Yamcha thought about when it was he'd seen him last. As far as he knew, he was still with Tien in some small town. Contact with Malachi was far and few between. They hung out only occasionally and Yamcha had never been confident enough to call him up himself. Surely, he was a busy person and didn't have time for the likes of him. Not that Malachi had ever given him that impression. Malachi was always candid and quite accommodating, paying for absolutely everything whenever they happened to go somewhere—he insisted on it. Still, Yamcha couldn't help but think he was only thought of when he was bored and had nothing to do; a last resort.

"I haven't spoken to him in a while, but I guess I can ask around."

"Thank you. It would really help me a lot. I swear I'm always the last person to know what he's doing all the time. Might as well just save my number—I have a feeling this isn't the last time this will happen. I've been stood up far more times than I can count."

"Alright, gotcha, man," Yamcha said already tiring of the whole thing. It wasn't as if he knew any better than the next person.

He did as the man suggested after they ended the call wondering why he'd told the other he'd ask around. There was no way he was going to call Bulma or Vegeta or anyone in that family. He sighed. At least now he had an excuse to call Malachi. He didn't call him right away as he'd rather be a bit more decent before he did so.

"I thought you said you weren't going anywhere today," Ariel said in accusatory tones as he climbed out of bed.

"I'm not," he said nonchalantly. "Just thought some clothes would be nice."

"Oh…I see," she said, "I guess."

"Don't worry about it," Yamcha said dismissively. Far be it, that she be made to think too hard.

Yamcha made off for the bathroom and spent some time cleaning himself off before exiting and making himself comfortable in the small living room. Finally, after taking a deep breath, he called him. He decided he would act casual. After all, he had a perfectly good question to ask him and he could bypass any initial awkwardness.

"Hello?" a little boy's voice answered.

Yamcha had to look at his phone again to make sure he hadn't accidently tapped on the wrong person.

"Umm…who's this?" he asked a little put off.

"Jensen."

Maybe Malachi had gotten a new number without even informing him. The very thought made him feel left out, but admittedly it wasn't an altogether new sensation and his mood was already souring. "I thought this was Malachi's number," Yamcha said with frustration coloring his tone.

"It is," the boy said enthusiastically, "I just have his phone."

"Oh," Yamcha said confusedly. "Okay, and why do you have his phone? Who are you anyway?"

"I'm his son. And, well, he's been missing for a while, but he's back. He just let me have his phone for a while."

"Wait a minute, hold on—his son?"

"Yeah, I'm Jensen."

"I got that much," he said with disbelief in his tone.

Was this some huge secret that he'd been keeping from everyone since he'd met him? Yamcha hadn't known him for very long, but there had been absolutely no mention of Jensen. The kid was obviously old enough to speak. Was he adopted? Maybe that was it. But why do such a thing all of a sudden? Malachi didn't seem like the kind of guy who would just decide to do that. In fact, he couldn't picture him with any kids. He knew about Machi, but Jensen was something else entirely.

"How old are you, kid?" Yamcha asked.

"Umm…8?" he answered.

"Are you sure about that?" Yamcha said jokingly poking at his questioning tone.

"No, not really."

"8 and a half?" Yamcha asked knowingly.

"No, it's just what Daddy told me to tell people."

Yamcha had no idea what to make of that. "Oh, well, I'm sure he knows your age better than anyone, right? I mean, is he your biological—"

"Yes," Jensen interrupted him.

"And Bra is your—"

"No," he interrupted. "But I'm not supposed to talk about that stuff to strangers."

"Well, I'm totally not a stranger. Your dad didn't mention me? We hang out all the time."

"Really?" Jensen asked with surprise, "I didn't think he had any friends."

"Geez, you don't hold back, do ya?" Yamcha said with a laugh. "Listen, I called 'cus some guy working for your dad wanted to find out where he was. Said he called this number, but didn't get a response. I suppose I can tell him the good news."

"I think I know who that was," Jensen said. "There was this person called 'asshole' who kept ringing and there's about five different missed calls. I didn't think I should answer," he finished in quieter tones.

"Don't worry—I wouldn't either," Yamcha reassured him with a chuckle.

"Also, I don't think Daddy's up for any visitors right now."

"Oh, well," Yamcha began slowly. He became slightly deflated at Jensen's statement. "That's alright. Guess I got what I was looking for. Have a nice day, kid."

"Wait, wait, don't hang up," Jensen said urgently.

"What? What's wrong?" he asked, concerned about his sudden outburst.

"I'm super bored and nobody wants to talk to me right now. Bra's with Daddy. Grand—I mean, Vegeta is with Bulma downstairs. Machi's asleep. There's no one to play with and I don't want to annoy everyone."

"Sorry to hear that, kid, but what can I do about that?"

"I wanna come over to _your_ place."

"I can't just let you do that. I should probably ask…" His mind paused when he thought about awkwardly asking permission from Bra or worse yet Vegeta. "I just don't think it's a good idea."

"Aw man!" Jensen whined. "I can just fly over there, leave Daddy a message and I'll set the phone right next to him so he knows where I am."

"Well…"

"He'll totally be fine with it 'cus you guys are such good friends, right?"

"Umm…"

"So, can I come over?"

"Listen," Yamcha began before he was interrupted by Ariel who'd just stepped into the living room.

"I _really_ need to get my nails done—this is like the second time I asked and all you do is ignore me. If you're not gonna do anything with me today, might as well do it today—can I get your keys?"

"Fine, yes," he said as he took the keys off the small table beside him and tossed it towards her. "And go get me some ramen while you're at it."

"I knew you'd come around!" Jensen said excitedly in his ear. "Though I don't know about the ramen."

"No, wait, wait," Yamcha said frantically as he vaguely heard Ariel's voice saying she'd "think about it" as she walked out the door.

Either Jensen hung up quickly or he completely ignored him; Yamcha couldn't be sure. All he knew was that Jensen was on his way. He wondered how he could know where he lived and hoped this fact prevented him from going through with things.

* * *

 **Waking up that day, Yamcha had no idea that he'd be hanging out with a little boy he'd never heard of until now.** Jensen had come over with a deck of playing cards intending to pass the time with him. When asked how he figured out where he stayed, he replied that Malachi always made sure to record everyone's address in his phone. Of course, Yamcha had thought to himself, Malachi was just meticulous enough to do that sort of thing. Not having the heart to kick him out, Yamcha was soon playing a casual game of Spades. He was already losing, but he was never one to get hung up on winning and losing. Besides, Jensen was pretty much blathering about everything he knew and Yamcha was more interested in that.

Jensen had told him in great detail how he came to be. He remembered a singular intent in learning new information and thereby understanding his environment. He took "being a sponge" to the next level once Yamcha understood what that meant. The first person he'd ever absorbed information from was a doctor—the same doctor that had been involved in his birth. There was much that he gathered from him—namely language, a general understanding of the outside world, and a great deal about human medicine and health—something that was too complex to grasp completely. Then afterwards, his attentions changed to find his parents. Without knowing completely why, he took a direct route to his father. He "sensed" him unlike his mother. In hindsight, it was probably because he already knew subconsciously that his mother was no longer alive and he had simply prioritized his father instead.

Knowing that he was somehow different along with his understanding of human nature, he began by asking the other to not hurt him. His very first impression of his father was that he was quite grief-stricken, going so far as to shed tears. Jensen didn't exactly know what to do about that, but perhaps his presence might change things. When he showed himself, however, everything went awry. Malachi was scared out of his mind. Then Jensen became frantic knowing that this form would not be enough to appease his father. He did the only thing he could do and absorbed more information from the source.

If he could find some suitable form, then his father would eventually accept him. Having been in one human mind before, he thought it would be a little easier this time around, but it seemed everyone's mind worked a little different as far as information went. It was difficult to find the things that his father liked, even more to find any inkling as to what he'd want his offspring to look like. In the end, he found no such information and he was left with the image of a child in the back of his mind. It was that image that he decided to go on, making himself almost an exact replica of it.

The rest happened in a blur as his body began the long process of morphing into that image. Everything had to be just right. Taking what he subconsciously knew about human physiology from the doctor and what a healthy one should be like, his once amorphous form developed into a human child. It was a more solid form. He knew he wouldn't be able to change once the process was done, but this was what he wanted. This had to work.

Malachi didn't exactly welcome him with open arms, but it was close enough and he was satisfied. He'd always known his father to be perpetually disconsolate even when outwardly he appeared otherwise. The only instant in which this wasn't the case was when he'd witnessed him singing to Machi, a fussy child by nature. Jensen was almost certain it wasn't because of his close vicinity to Machi, but the very act of singing. He suspected there wasn't a single person in the world which could brighten his gloominess—he was too distrustful of others in the first place—but music was a different story. Though he'd never seen his father perform live, he'd seen enough videos and realized that he truly did come alive in that instant.

Even suspecting all these things, Jensen still attempted to always be on his best behavior in hopes that one day he could be another reason for his happiness.

"So, let me get this straight," Yamcha said after the other finished talking. "You're not really 8 years old, you just look like it?" Jensen nodded at this. "And after all that 'stuff' happened, you turn out to be like any typical son who wants to impress his father."

"I wouldn't say _typical_ ," Jensen argued as he placed another card down. "I'm still part alien."

"Yeah, well, you're not the first part alien person I've met. But that's not my point. I'm saying, you're just a kid who wants his dad's approval. I get that. You should have seen Gohan when he was growing up."

"Gohan?" Jensen asked.

"You probably haven't met him. Part alien and always looking up to his dad. You look at that guy now and you'd never guess he used to be a fighter—and pretty much the reason we still have an Earth to talk about."

"He's a Saiyan too?" Jensen asked. "Like Vegeta?"

"More like Bra and Trunks, but yeah. I have a question though. You mentioned Malachi was missing for a while—was it something bad that happened?"

"He was kidnapped," Jensen said in quieter tones, "By Laputa."

"So Laputa's still a thing? I thought it was over when Tien told me Bulma came up with something to get rid of it."

"I was there. I know it didn't work and Laputa was able to get away."

"So all this time, he's been…"

"Probably trying to come up with a good plan. One time he asked me to join him."

"He did?" Yamcha asked mystified. "I'm guessing you didn't give him a 'yes'."

Jensen shook his head. "I couldn't. I was too afraid. I had no idea who he was. And, Daddy was too weak to defend himself at that time. I didn't entirely know why everyone was against him, but they were and I decided that I should be too."

"I'm glad you made that choice—don't get me wrong—but you do realize that Laputa is nothing but bad news. You understand what he's been planning to do since the moment he came here, right?"

"I do now," Jensen said looking away. "That's a thing that he does. Laputa destroys things—it defines him. But…destruction in itself isn't inherently bad."

Yamcha, who'd been studying the cards in his hands, looked up at Jensen with alarm.

"It's just something that happens all around us both on a smaller and bigger scale. I couldn't really tell if _he_ was actually bad. Not until he kidnapped Daddy and…outright killed Vegeta. He didn't have to do those things, but he went out of his way to make others suffer. That kind of person is a different story."

"Hold on. Did you say _kill_ Vegeta?"

"He told me to go inside, but I stayed. He shot him through the heart and he started to bleed out. Then, I'm not sure what happened, but I think I might have healed him somehow."

Yamcha stared at him trying to gather his thoughts. "So you can do that kind of thing too?"

"I don't know. I don't even know how I did it in the first place. I'm guessing humans can't just do that?"

"Well, probably not that instantly," Yamcha said thoughtfully. Doctors were quite helpful from his own experience and cures for diseases that were once thought to be incurable were being created at a far more rapid pace. While he'd been introduced to senzu beans in the past, he knew they ran out quickly and were meant for dire situations. After he quit his pursuit of fighting, he eventually found himself in a doctor's office. Even now, he still felt incredibly healthy having not consumed any magical beans in a very long time. The medical prowess he'd been privy to was nothing to sneeze at.

"I guess it's some sort of non-human thing, but I'll never really know and I don't plan on asking Laputa."

"It sounds incredibly useful if you ask me. I have a feeling that it works just like ki."

"Maybe," Jensen said thoughtfully. "But I can't really remember it happening. I'd just been so desperate. I knew that he must have meant a great deal to a lot of people. And he'd been so nice to me—nicer than anyone. Did you know Daddy had wanted to name his son after him? Not me though," he said looking away once again, "But I understand why. It makes sense. I'm not even related…"

"Hey, looks like you won this round too," Yamcha said looking down at the cards. It was probably one of his clumsiest ways to change the subject as he noticed the other's mood darkening.

Jensen added to his growing line of books on his side and set out yet another card just as quickly.

"You know," Yamcha said after they were quiet for a while. "If Laputa had actually taken down Vegeta, Earth's defenders would probably be in seriously bad shape. I know Tien still trains, but he wouldn't be a match just like Krillen. Trunks, Goten, Gohan—a lost cause really." Yamcha placed another card down. "Really, Pan would be the only one left. Even then, I don't even know why this Laputa would even stick around for that. In fact, I'm surprised he's even still doing it. I'm always wondering what's stopping him from destroying Earth right now while we have no idea what he's doing. I think about that a lot actually. Made peace with it really because there's nothing I can possibly do to change things. It's not like I haven't died before and it wasn't terrible afterwards." Yamcha shrugged. "It would just be too bad that so many others would have to share that same fate. But my point being, you might have saved us all by saving Vegeta's life."

Jensen looked up at the other with surprise. "You're exaggerating."

"Not at all from where I stand. We probably wouldn't even be having this conversation right now. I have no doubt."

"Either way—I win this round too," Jensen said with a grin which quickly turned into a smile. He took the cards and placed another on the table.

They played somewhat earnestly for a few minutes before Jensen spoke again. He was still winning, but Yamcha did manage to take a few books for himself.

"Maybe there was already a problem before Laputa ever came to Earth," Jensen said thoughtfully.

"You're talking about there being so few people who could face him anyway?" Yamcha said knowingly.

"Yeah. Wouldn't it be better if there were, you know, more people who could also fight?"

"Everyone knows that. No one wants to admit it. Scratch that. No one wants to even think about it. Dedicating one's entire life to fighting is easier said than done and it sounds _ridiculous_ on paper. And a bit excessive. Then it would only be necessary on the off chance some crazy guy wants to destroy Earth or otherwise do harm to it in any way. Not much incentive really despite Earth having a surprisingly bad tracking record with attracting the wrong kind of people. Sometimes, we even do it to ourselves. And I hate to say this, but Saiyans can't live forever. We've already lost Goku."

"So…Earth depends on aliens to defend them from aliens?" Jensen asked.

"That's the gist of it. Counterintuitive, I know. Guess I kind of take it for granted."

"Can't humans fight too?" Jensen asked.

"Sure," Yamcha said with a grin. "And I win this round—geez, finally," he said swiping the two cards off the center of the table and adding it to his books.

"Just not like Saiyans."

"That's how it's always been. Saiyans are just way stronger and I don't see that changing anytime soon."

"Daddy doesn't believe that."

"Your dad," Yamcha began forwardly, "Actually, nevermind," he finished, thinking better of it.

"No, please, finish your thought. I won't be offended."

Yamcha sighed as he thought of a better way to word things. "Your dad is just new to all this. He doesn't understand things that I just take for granted. He listens, but then he doesn't listen. Once he has his mind set on something, you can't tell him anything."

"That doesn't sound like such a bad thing," Jensen replied

Yamcha watched as the other took up the last of the cards. In the end, Jensen had eleven books and Yamcha only two. Jensen would have quite a head start points-wise.

"Not at first," Yamcha said responding to his last comment as he gathered up the cards again. "Geez, you're really on a roll today, but I guess I shouldn't be too surprised—Never been good at this game."

"Don't beat yourself up too hard," Jensen said as the other shuffled the cards. "It's a game of luck as well as skill and I happen to be quite lucky right now. You're also easily distracted and I won at least two books that I shouldn't have."

"You did?" Yamcha asked mystified.

"If I were in your shoes, I would have seen it coming a mile away. You allowed me to cut your hearts twice even after it was clear I had no more of them."

As he said this, Yamcha could vaguely remember that happening. He hadn't been paying enough attention apparently. "Huh, you could have warned me," he said with a shrug.

"Now what would be the fun in that?" he asked with a grin.

The smug look that Yamcha saw on Jensen's face starkly reminded him of Malachi. Usually such exaggerated confidence meant one's eventual downfall—nothing good came of it—but on someone as canny as Malachi, it was almost frightening. To see something like that on someone so young who'd already proven themselves to be quite articulate was surprising to say the least.

"Like two peas in a pod," Yamcha said to himself.

"What was that?" Jensen asked puzzled.

"It was nothing," he said quickly right when his phone began ringing. He read Malachi's name on the screen and wondered why he immediately felt as if he was in trouble. "Hello?"

"Hey," Malachi said wearily. "Is Jensen with you?"

"Yeah, he's here—he's totally fine and nothing bad happened. I had no idea he'd be over here, but since he was here I thought it'd be rude to kick him out and—

"Relax," Malachi said with an air of nonchalance. "He left me a note and I'm too tired to actually get mad at him for it. He knows it's not a good idea to be going places on his own, but for whatever reason he chose to anyway. Not much I can do about that. Tell him dinner's ready."

Yamcha breathed a sigh of relief wondering why he'd been apprehensive from the outset. "I'll tell him," Yamcha replied, "Nice to finally hear from the peanut gallery," he finished in joking tones. "Your agent called me up asking for your whereabouts."

Yamcha mouthed "dinner's ready" to Jensen who'd been watching curiously at which point Jensen took his leave after gathering up his cards and giving a brief wave goodbye.

"Derrick?" Malachi asked, groaning in annoyance. "Sorry about that. Haven't been in contact with him for a while—extenuating circumstances."

"Like being kidnapped by Laputa?" Yamcha asked hoping to surprise the other with all he knew.

"Bulma told me it's been at least a week since that happened," Malachi replied not in the least bit caught off guard.

"Really? Not even a little bit surprised?"

"Not even a little. Jensen will tell you anything with little prodding. Smart as he is—he doesn't know when to shut-up. Guess it saves me the breath of explaining things."

"Hey, cut him some slack. He was just bored and I told him we were friends."

"Sometimes he's 8 years old, sometimes he's younger than that, and other times he just seems to know more than you do—I don't know what to make of him," Malachi said dismissively.

"Just…treat him like you would your own son," Yamcha said before the other could say anything more. "Just like you'd treat Machi."

"Machi's different—she's just a baby. I can't exactly treat him the same way."

"You know what I mean," Yamcha said exasperatedly.

"No, apparently I don't. How about being a bit more specific?"

"Seriously?"

"What? Do you want me to say it out loud? I have no clue what I'm doing as far as being a father. I'm still trying to get used to Machi. I wasn't even there to see when Bra was pregnant with her. She just kind of…came out of nowhere. A lot like Jensen really. I'm not even sure I have an actual 'connection' with either of them. You'd think after all those diapers I changed, it'd be different. Got any useful advice, self-proclaimed eternal bachelor?"

"That's a heavy question to be dropping on me out of the blue."

"You're the one who brought it up—I just wanted to make sure Jensen was where he said he was. I definitely don't need him going missing. If you're not doing anything tonight, maybe you should come over with your 'friend'," Malachi finished referring to Ariel.

"I would love to, but no. It'd probably be awkward."

"Oh, right—I keep forgetting. I mean, that did happen in the distant past, right? You really think it's still going to be an issue?"

"Can Vegeta still keep grudges? As much as you like to tempt fate all the time, I would rather not."

"He does seem like the type to do that, but maybe you're cutting him a bit short. If you're upfront with him, he'll respond better to that."

"Right," Yamcha said though still not changing his mind in the slightest.

"We should talk more later. It's been a while."

"And who's fault is that?" Yamcha asked.

"Calling someone just to talk about nothing in particular is the last thing I'm thinking about doing all the time. Just isn't something I ever got into."

"Sometimes your total lack of a social life astounds even me. The super famous Malachi who's always surrounded by adoring fans or some excessive entourage doesn't like to actually talk to people. Amazing."

"That's all for the cameras. It's pretty much the only thing that stands between everyone else and my own privacy. So, no, outside of that, I don't hang out with very many people." He sighed tiredly.

"Are you okay?" Yamcha asked.

"Better get downstairs before people start making a fuss. I'll call you later."

Yamcha noticed a complete avoidance of his last question. He'd sounded quite exhausted the entire time they'd been on the phone. He was almost certain that it was a result of what Laputa had done. It was likely he was still recovering. Still, there may have been something more—it was hard to tell with that guy.

Even after the call ended, it still felt surreal having someone like Malachi in his contact list. He didn't brag about it or tell anyone besides Ariel knowing that a great number of people would probably do embarrassingly drastic things just to get his number. Not only that, he was sure he'd break whatever trust Malachi had with him. He was sure Malachi would have no issue ignoring him for the rest of his life. Speaking of holding grudges—Yamcha wouldn't be surprised if Malachi was capable of holding them for an eternity. Everyone else already did that, as far as ignoring went. He would call, get voicemail, and never hear back from anyone. Seemed they were all too busy with their own lives. Only Bulma might call, but not to really talk, just to invite him to some random party she was throwing. It was always awkward anyway.

That was what he'd come to expect from his old friends barring Puar, but he'd made plenty of others pursuing his career in baseball. He'd created an entire life separate from those who he'd spent so much of his life with. No one would believe the things that he'd seen so he never brought it up. To Malachi, however, he told him everything.

Yamcha wasn't exactly holding his breath for Malachi to call him back later that day. Ariel came back with her freshly manicured nails and admittedly, they did look quite nice on her slender fingers. She decided to bring back ramen this time—she'd bought all the ingredients for quite the meal. It was the only thing he was good at making on his own and over the years he'd grown even more skillful at the dish.

This being a pastime of his, he prepared it easily and Ariel was in a good mood speaking candidly about the photoshoots she'd been able to schedule. Every once in a while, she'd take out her portfolio and flip through it chattering excitedly about her experiences. She was a beautiful woman able to transform seamlessly into whatever mood they wanted from her. He'd seen her a few times in magazines in passing. He didn't have too much to add to the topic often agreeing with whatever she said. He'd not done too much that day, but that was alright since he'd taken this day off from his usual training. It was offseason for him, but he still had to continue to maintain his stature. Though he wasn't nearly as nimble as he had been in the past, baseball was something that he loved and he didn't see himself giving it up anytime soon.

Much later that night after Ariel had fallen asleep and he was very close to following in suit, he received a call from Malachi, the very thing he'd given up expecting. He slipped out of bed and made himself comfortable once again in the living room. They spoke for hours about any and everything. Malachi claimed to be lying down on the rooftop "gazing up at the stars" and as far as he knew, everyone else was asleep.

It was a nice end to the day. Yamcha was the one who ended the call when he noticed the other falling asleep—he insisted really. After that, he stayed in the living room contemplating for a little while longer before returning to his bed with the beautiful woman known as Ariel whose snores could almost be heard throughout the house. It didn't bother him in the least.

* * *

 **AN** : Good ol' Yamcha.

 **Wine:** I don't normally come out with chapter regularly for a story—I still have a lot of incomplete fics I have to get to. However, this one is special because I'm really into writing it right now. And, don't worry, I just said that just in case people were expecting longer chapters. I only write them if it happens to turn out that way.

 **SierraLarson** : When I first read your comment, I was pretty much saying to myself that things from games aren't considered canon. Then I did some research and found that there _is_ an official map of the Dragon Ball Universe only it was created after the fact and put into these encyclopedias. This comes as no surprise considering Toriyama is notorious for ignoring continuity and not paying too much attention to small details. I'm sure he must have had some vague idea of where things were as he was making the story, but it definitely wasn't set in stone. Now it is. I'll try to refer to that map from the encyclopedia from now on. Funny enough, the map does make sense to me and my story doesn't seem to go against anything on it. We can all assume Gohan lived nearby Satan City since he went to school there regularly, but West City being so far from Satan City isn't exactly intuitive especially since we see so much of kid Trunks and kid Goten hanging out together. Clearly distance is not a factor.

Anyways, I'm glad you brought it to my attention, though. It really helps me picture things a bit better. Maybe I'll add a bit more details about location. Not going to lie, I've been being pretty vague about setting.


	42. Lilith's Legacy

**"You're not asleep, are you?" Bra asked in the darkness.**

"No," Malachi replied with a sigh.

He was turned away from her, slightly curled and covered almost completely with the comforters. For as long as they slept in the same bed, Bra had long since noticed that he was rather lacking in body heat. She, however, was the complete opposite. He'd likely not object if she pressed closer to him. They'd gotten in bed separately which was why they'd ended up in such positions. She'd honestly thought he was asleep when she climbed back into the bed. After a while as she gazed up numbly at the ceiling, she asked the other if he was awake for good measure. It was nice to hear his voice in the growing silence when it was least expected.

"Thinking?" Bra asked prodding the other.

"Well, I'm always doing that."

"Even when you're asleep?" Bra said teasingly.

"Obviously not. Or if I am, I have no idea."

Bra moved a little closer to the other. "I can't sleep."

She watched as he turned towards her pushing the covers down from his face. "I can't either."

His eyes sought her out, but she knew he couldn't possibly see her in the pitch darkness. She, however, could see him perfectly. Sometimes she forgot that he was only human and there were some things no matter how hard he trained that would remain out of reach. It wasn't such a bad thing. In fact, in her eyes, it was quite endearing. If only he knew that she adored his flaws just as much as the things that he excelled in, maybe he wouldn't feel so compelled to show off all the time. She paused in her musings when he looked directly at her catching her off guard.

"You can see me?" Bra asked.

"No," he replied, making her far more relieved than she'd like to admit. "But I can sense you and I've seen your face a thousand times." He'd reached over and ran his hand slowly down the side of her face. She smiled in response.

"After being under the covers, your hands still feel cold. You sure you're not a vampire?" she teased.

"I hope not. Doesn't it feel cold in here, though? You guys like to keep it at a very blistering sixty degrees Fahrenheit even in the dead of winter."

"I had no idea that you considered that very cold. I could turn it up, but I'm sure everyone else would find it very uncomfortable to sleep in."

"I figured—which is why I never bothered asking. It's just me."

"Hmm, have I figured out why you have a penchant for wearing dreary dark colors all the time?" she asked as she reached out for his hands so that she could cup them in hers.

"You caught me red handed."

"Really? Is that true?"

His hands were icy even between her own, dulling her own natural warmth for a while.

"Yeah, actually. You'd be surprised how many places I frequent which I consider freezing. Gets annoying after a while to the point where I could hardly bear to wear something brightly colored that ultimately made matters worse."

"Learn something new about you every day," Bra said. She began rubbing her hands against his.

"It's not some crazy deep secret—just never thought to mention it."

"Oh, you poor cold thing," she said as she spread her arms out to him.

When there were no eyes watching, when he was no longer "performing", Bra liked him best. He liked being told what to do, but not when others were watching—not that he'd explicitly told her such things. She smiled to herself as he obediently pulled closer to her. She wrapped her arms around him protectively. She felt him shivering ever so slightly. A shock of coldness was sent through her body. Unbeknownst to him, she warmed herself by raising her energy subtly. It wasn't something that had come easy to her, but she'd been motivated.

They were quiet for a while. All she could hear was his breathing. She began to wonder if he'd finally fallen to sleep before he eventually moved away from her, turning on his back. She remembered she'd once told him not to fight anymore, finding a moment like this to do so. He'd listened to her, but even she knew that it wouldn't last. It would be like him telling her to stop shopping so much; it had gone against his nature. Once her father had introduced it to him, there was no turning back. Ever since then, he'd been in constant danger. She wished it could stay like this, that he could always be nearby and that he would always allow her to protect him.

"I was thinking about speaking with Pan tomorrow about the whole 'ascension' thing," Malachi said.

She was brought back to reality with a snap. "Okay, why are you telling _me_ that? You probably have her number, right?" Bra was still turned towards him and she watched as he gazed up at the ceiling.

"It's not something I want to talk about over a simple phone call," Malachi said slowly. "It'll probably take more than that. I just wanted to let you know that I would be talking to her."

"Am I missing something? Do you need my permission? If you want to ask her, ask her," Bra replied.

"I'd rather avoid any misunderstanding. She's your friend."

"I get it now—you think I'll get jealous. Now what would make you think that? A certain Lilith perhaps? Planning on doing _that_ again?"

"I wasn't talking about that besides we weren't exactly together when all that happened. I just know how you get. You've gone through my phone more than once," Malachi began.

"Hey, you have too, pal."

"Only to get a certain person's number—"

"My father's."

"Sure. And I'm glad I did. Saved me a lot of time and effort. You've asked me about a number of girls which you must've seen in my contacts list."

"They were messaging you constantly. You don't think I should have been concerned?"

"I have a lot of 'friends' I was still in contact with, but per your snooping, I'm sure you've noticed that I've cut back significantly. I let Derrick handle things more and more. But that's beside the point. I know you and I'm trying to be proactive. Instead of randomly talking to your friend behind your back, I'm going to let you know exactly what I'm doing so you don't have to wonder and think the worst."

"Fine, but I wouldn't have made a big deal about it anyway. I have nothing to worry about with Pan. Just like I'm sure it wouldn't bother you if you found me talking with Yamcha."

"I'd like to see the day. It'd be pretty awkward and knowing Yamcha he'd probably avoid you like the plague."

"What are you talking about?" Bra asked confused.

"You know he used to date your mom for quite some time before Vegeta came into the picture."

"Really? I never knew that."

"Probably no reason for anyone to tell you. Food for thought: you're over 18 and you look exactly like your mom. Come to think of it, guess I would be a little concerned if I saw you talking to him."

"First of all, ew. Secondly, why do people keep saying that? So we both have blue hair—that doesn't make us twins. I just don't see it."

"You really don't see it? I do. If it wasn't for the obvious age difference, it'd be hard to tell you apart."

"Oh? So should I be worried every time I see you talking with Mom now?"

"Well…she did save my life _and_ she's super smart."

"Malachi, I'm going to strangle you with this pillow now."

"I'm joking."

"I know, but I still might strangle you in your sleep."

"And that definitely won't keep me up for the rest of the night," Malachi replied with obvious sarcasm.

"Seriously, Malachi, I'm fine with you talking to Pan. Maybe she can help you. If you insist on fighting, then you might as well get advice from the best. She's a bit rough around the edges, though."

"So are you," he said back, "Only you hide it better."

"Guess it just comes with the territory."

Bra watched the other searching for her face again. Eventually, he found her eyes again and he looked at her pensively.

"You truly are a princess," he said gently as he let a finger slide through her hair. "I bet you never had to suffer a hardship in your life. You have a father who would always protect you, a doting mother who made sure you excelled in both etiquette and style, and a brother who balanced things out, but who would protect you all the same."

"Is that…a bad thing?" Bra asked wondering why he was mentioning all of this. Was he jealous?

"The complete opposite. It's a good thing. It's a very good thing. It was just an observation. I don't think I've ever met a person quite like you. Is this what perfection is?"

"I'm not perfect," Bra insisted, "It just seems that way. I mean, you said it yourself, I do get jealous a lot."

"Rightfully so. Who in their right minds would even glance at anyone else once they started dating you?"

"Stop it. You're going to make me start blushing—I _hate_ blushing."

"Am I? I didn't mean to. Sometimes it's hard to imagine living a life like that." His eyes had returned to the ceiling.

"I could say the same about you," Bra said, "Especially since you never talk about it."

"There's not much to talk about," he replied as his eyes began looking elsewhere in the darkness. "I'd rather hear more about you. All those family outings, trips to beaches, trips to parks, sibling rivalry, going to a nice school, having the choice to be whoever you want to be," he said wistfully.

"We could do things like that, you know. As a family. We have Machi."

"And Jensen," Malachi reminded her.

"Yeah, Jensen." The strange boy who was hard to get used to. She tried to be as nice as she could to him, but it never felt right. "Did you ever want to have another child?" Bra asked as she sat up slowly.

"Can we get married first?" Malachi asked with a laugh.

"Sure, but I'm not the one who's stalling."

"Laputa is still out there. Any wedding we do now would be half-assed at best. You want it to be something special, right? Something big."

"Not really," Bra said shaking her head. She'd taken the time now to straddle him. "I'd be fine with a shotgun wedding."

"Really? I'm sure your mom wouldn't approve."

"So what?" Bra said as she leaned in closer to him. "We'll do as we see fit."

"I'd rather have their approval too."

She was inches away from his lips. "I never pegged you for someone who cared about tradition."

"Well, not usually, but you're an heiress. I always imagined you'd want that."

"I don't," she said at a near whisper as she began kissing him.

He began kissing her back, but turned his face away after a while. "We're having a perfectly normal conversation and this is what you want to do right now," he said in annoyance.

"Are you turning me down? I thought men were supposed to be horndogs."

"I'm barely a horndog," he admitted.

"You have a depressingly low sex-drive," Bra said as she walked her fingers across his chest, "which is ironic for someone who sings about love _all_ the time." She felt to see if he was even a little hard and found that he wasn't. "Don't you love me?"

"I love you, but—"

He was cut off when she started kissing him again. He didn't pull away immediately as he returned the favor. She wondered if there was some trigger that would set him off. Apparently, a beautiful woman straddling and kissing him just wasn't enough. Then a thought came to her mind. Maybe he liked to be dominated. It always turned out well for her when she demanded things. She felt him pulling away from her much to her annoyance.

"Turn away again and see what happens," Bra said in haughty tones. She had his attention now as he looked up at her with unfathomable eyes. "I won't let you leave this room until you give me what I want."

"Or what?" Malachi asked challengingly with a grin.

She bent down closer to him, "Or I'll tear you apart."

"Weren't you going to do that anyway?" he asked as he pulled her closer by the collar of her nightgown with an index finger.

When he started kissing her it was far more passionate than it had been before and they started going at each other fiercely. Once he was alive, he excused himself much to her annoyance so that he could properly protect himself. For something so spur of the moment, she didn't think things would last very long, but she'd been wrong. Once it started, they kept at it for hours, trading positions every now and then.

Needless to say, they were well sweated after their 'little' romp and Malachi was clearly spent as he breathed freely lying down flat on his back. In fact, he was starting to fall asleep.

"Hey, I don't want old rubbers in the bed," Bra said shaking him.

"Fine," he said tiredly.

He didn't move immediately, but he did eventually much to her satisfaction. She expected a swift return, but it took him a long time and she was getting tired of waiting. She didn't want to call out his name for fear of waking someone on the hall. She considered going to check on him before she saw his silhouette coming through the doorway.

"Malachi?" Bra questioned as he slowly climbed back into bed. "What took you?"

"Umm…Bra, got some bad news." He seemed utterly bent out of shape.

"Just say it."

"I found a hole."

Bra had to think a moment to realize what he was talking about. "Oh my, god. That's…That's wonderful news!"

"What?" Malachi asked.

"Another child!" she said with excitement.

He sighed with closed eyes. "Bra, I don't want—"

"You better not finish that sentence," she said looking over at him. The excitement Bra thought he would have if they ever succeeded in having another child simply wasn't there. "You look like your dog's just died. It wouldn't be so bad—and I'm not even sure if anything happened."

"I…haven't even gotten used to the ones I do have. Contraceptives are a complete joke, aren't they? I should just avoid doing anything for the rest of my life."

"Oh, I wouldn't agree to that at all."

"Poor Bra couldn't possibly handle such a thing," Malachi teased.

"Very funny."

He sighed then. "Whatever happens, happens. Think I'll save my worry for if or when things are more concrete."

Before Bra could reply, she heard Machi in the next room. "You hear that?" Bra asked, hinting to the other.

"Yeah, I do," Malachi said with a sigh as he climbed out of the bed without further fuss. "I got it."

Bra watched the other trudge out of the room again and soon he disappeared from her view. It was at times like these that she was even more thankful that Malachi was here. He could quiet Machi a lot easier than anyone else in the house—recorded music didn't always work for her. She wondered silently how single mothers could ever take care of a child all on their own. She knew she couldn't be one of those women—she refused to be. She grew up in a family in which her parents were always together and that it was obvious that they loved one another; that was what she wanted for Machi.

She closed her eyes and listened for his voice. Sometimes he sang to her softly, sometimes he would simply be in his own world singing at any volume that suited him at the moment. Bra suspected that the latter was the case; she could hear his voice as clear as day, low and somber. It wasn't a tone he visited often, but perhaps the time of day had affected his mood.

 _People hand in hand  
Have I lived to see the milk and honey land?  
Where hate's a dream and love forever stands  
Or is this a vision in my mind?_

It was another familiar song that she couldn't place. She knew it wasn't one of his own songs—she knew them all like the back of her hand. This was someone else. Some other singer which Malachi clearly knew well enough to remember all the words. Always for Machi, he seemed to favor songs that were more thoughtful. Perhaps that was why he never chose any of his own. Most of his songs were catchy and held little depth to them. Not that it was bad thing. People didn't want to think all the time, they just wanted to dance without being bogged down with philosophy or politics. He continued earnestly, his voice lower than anything he'd use in his own music.

 _The law was never passed  
But somehow all men feel they're truly free at last.  
Have we really gone this far through space and time  
Or is this a vision in my mind?_

 _I'm not one who make believes  
I know that leaves are green  
They only turn to brown when autumn comes around  
I know just what I say  
Today's not yesterday  
And all things have an ending_

 _But what I'd like to know  
Is could a place like this exist so beautiful  
Or do we have to find our wings and fly away  
To the vision in our mind?_

That song could go on forever and still the questions presented would not have an answer. Perhaps that was the point. Machi had stopped crying ages ago, but Malachi had wanted to finish what he started as he repeated the last two verses. Bra was starting to fall asleep as well just as he heard Malachi enter the room and slide under the covers quickly. Before long, she noticed he was shivering again and just like before, she shared her warmth with him. This time he did not pull away from her. This time, he simply fell asleep.

"I'll protect you, Malachi," Bra said to herself, "Even from yourself."

It was a bold claim—one that she wasn't sure she could fulfill, but saying it made it feel more real.

* * *

A sleek black car drove moderately fast on the highway, swerving around cars as it saw fit seemingly without a care in the world. The windows were up as it was a dry, but crisp day outside. The sun shined brightly, but it's heat seemed not to penetrate the coldness. In the driver's seat sat Malachi and in the passenger's seat sat Jensen who would gaze out the window one moment and then look at Malachi the next. The radio was on a bit loud as Malachi enjoyed whatever song happened to be playing—it was one of his favorite channels. He knew Jensen liked it as well as he hummed to some of it and sometimes knew the words.

"Something on your mind?" Malachi finally asked as he began to tire of Malachi's strange antics. He turned down the volume so that he could hear the other properly.

"I still don't get why you're taking me with you," Jensen said looking to the car floor now.

"Thought you would have loved this. You and me, hanging out together on this far too long drive to Pan's place."

"But…you haven't said anything to me the whole time," Jensen said quietly. He was still looking down.

"I said 'Good afternoon', told you where we were going and you hopped in the car. Was there something else you wanted to know? Ask me anything."

"Anything?" Jensen repeated.

"Within reason, of course," Malachi specified as he heard the tone in the other's voice.

"Ummm…well," Jensen began uncertainly. He was quiet for a while and the two of them drove in near silence for almost ten minutes. "What kind of music do you like?"

"You know that already," Malachi said glancing over at him, "You're the one with my phone all the time. And you've asked me that like three times already. I'm starting to feel like a broken record. Anything else?"

"S-sorry."

"Woh, hey, no need to apologize. It's not that serious. I just don't like repeating myself all that much, but I suppose it's something I need to get used to. You're not in trouble, alright?"

"Why are you being so nice to me?" he asked looking at him now.

"Because I'm your father, kid. But more than that, I'd like to start over. We kinda' got off on the wrong foot. I wasn't really at my best when you first met me. The things I said—I wished I had handled that better. I'd just saw your mother pass away and what I saw of you—I didn't think you were alive. I was still sad about that, but I couldn't properly express it. It was all very strange and surreal. I thought once things had changed, once Laputa wasn't an issue any longer, everything would be exactly like how it used to be; _I_ would be like I used to be, but it didn't work out like that. I don't want to make excuses—"

"I understand," Jensen said interrupting the other.

"What do you mean, you understand? I don't even understand."

"Readjusting to how things used to be wasn't as easy as you first thought. I don't know how it used to be like with Laputa, but it seemed like quite an ordeal just to get rid of him. Everyone keeps saying that he possessed you, but it seems deeper than that. And I guess now I know why you haven't been happy—it's about Mom. Did I say something weird?" Jensen asked.

Malachi had been glancing over at the other with a raised eyebrow wondering how someone so young was putting together such complicated thoughts. "No," he said as he looked back at the road. "You're right. I could not have said it any better."

"How come you don't ever talk about her?"

Malachi was silent for a good minute before answering deciding that he should be truthful about this, at least to Jensen. "No one wants to hear about her. And Bra would certainly not like to know that I spend any sort of time thinking about her. She's been surprisingly understanding so far—I don't want to push it. I never wanted it to end like that. At that time, when you found me, I was beginning to wonder if I was worth saving. And that's a terrifying thing to think about—I've never thought that way about myself." He found himself staring at the road, but not really processing what he was seeing. Luckily, the road was clear and he snapped out of it quickly.

"I want to hear about her," Jensen said, "Even if no one else wants to. Was she really a glorified incubator?"

Malachi sighed to himself when he heard his description of her spoken by a child. It sounded needlessly harsh. "She wasn't. Lilith loved you very much. She wanted to have you despite all the risks involved. There were a lot of…complications, but she never gave up on you. She wasn't a terrible person. She was an accomplished artist with a growing reputation. You know that painting of a phoenix that I put in your room? Your mother made that—it caught my eye when I was looking through her gallery."

"She has a gallery?" Jensen asked clearly interested in this fact.

"Yeah, but it's likely been auctioned off already. Soon after she passed, I'm sure her family made sure to get rid of them as quickly as possible. She wasn't very close to them—they didn't see eye to eye with what she should've been doing with her life. She came from a well-off family who wanted to see her pursue a more respectable career—"

"What's wrong with being an artist?" Jensen argued.

"You have to be really good at it if you want to make a living out of it," Malachi explained.

"Isn't that with any job?"

"This is different. It's more like a gamble that requires skills that can't always be learned. Not saying that creativity isn't part of other careers, but for this it is a necessity. It plays a big role. You have to have something special, something that makes you stand out from everyone else. In the end, it's just the luck of the draw. Lilith's parents wanted her to have something far more stable and less whimsical."

"I guess I understand," Jensen said.

"When I first met her, she was just a neighbor. She wanted to make a portrait of me; that was how we started talking."

"Did you keep that portrait?"

"When I saw it, I didn't think it looked like me and I didn't have any interest in keeping pictures of myself around. I'm sure it's been sold just like the rest of her work. I knew that she saw me differently from what I saw myself. She always thought so highly of me, perhaps too much and maybe I saw the signs, but ignored them. She was a naïve woman who only said things that I wanted to hear. When she became pregnant with you, despite some underhandedness on her part, I didn't want to simply abandon her. I couldn't, even in the state that I was."

"So…you loved her?" Jensen asked.

Malachi grinned to himself as he kept his eyes stead on the road. "That's too strong a word. We were friends and I couldn't imagine it ever being deeper than that. There were many things we had in common and I found it easy to talk to her about things. She was the least judgmental person I'd ever met. She was an open person, able to accept things that others wouldn't. Not that I was always completely honest with her. I kept a lot of things from her not because I didn't think she could handle it, but for her own safety. She was a neighbor at the time and I was supposed to be isolated from everyone else. Tien was supposed to be training me and I would live there until something else could be figured out—either I learn how to exist with Laputa or Bulma discovers a cure. Chiaotzu and Tien were certainly not people I would choose to hang out with on my own—I really needed someone to talk to so that I could feel halfway normal. Lilith was that person."

"I wish…I could have met her," Jensen said as his head turned back to the side window.

"Reality never lives up to one's expectations." He saw the other looking at him questioningly from his peripherals. "I used to try to imagine what my parents were like when I was much, much younger with even less information than you have to work off of. They could have been anything or anybody. And, of course, I always used to come up with some reason why they had to leave me behind, some important, understandable reason. Every day I would add to this imagined version of my parents until they ended up being completely perfect people—people that couldn't exist in reality. Maybe in the future you'll come to the same conclusion as I did—that none of it matters. Whether they were good or bad people, it doesn't matter in the least and it doesn't affect you as a person. What matters is who you are now and the people who you choose to care about."

Jensen was quiet for a long time after. There were no follow-up questions as Malachi continued speedily down the highway. He was glad he'd started in the morning knowing that it would take some hours to get there. He turned up the radio when he decided the other was done talking. It was the most he'd said to the kid at any one time and it hadn't gone terribly. Music blared for almost an hour before he felt Jensen's eyes on him again. He glanced over at his pensive son noting that he seemed to have something else on his mind. With a sigh, he turned down the volume once again.

"Yeah?" Malachi asked when he wouldn't say anything immediately.

"Do you love Bra then?"

"Is that a trick question? She's the woman who I plan to marry."

"What's it like?—to be in love with someone?" he asked as he leaned his head against the car window.

Malachi felt like turning up the music again at such a question. He didn't exactly have a good answer for that. No one had ever asked him to describe something as abstract as love. Most people just ended such lines of questioning after the initial "do you love that person?" and were satisfied with the finality of giving a 'yes' or 'no' answer. No one wanted to hear a description. Everyone had their own version of what it should be. Who's to say that one's own version was wrong or right if the other person agreed with it? Wasn't it enough to see that the other person felt the same way? Why would any of this matter to Jensen or to any child? He couldn't quite understand what the other was looking for.

"What's it like?" Malachi repeated almost to himself. "Ah, well, different from what it was like before meeting her." He knew that was a lazy answer, but it was something. He paused as he tried to think of something more concrete— _if_ there was anything more illuminating to say.

"How can you tell whether you've fallen in love with someone or not?"

"That's the million-dollar question, isn't it? If there was a good answer for that, it wouldn't be such a difficult thing to find. There is a reoccurring theme as far as falling in love is concerned. It's supposed to be a powerful feeling that takes you over and makes you lose all sense of logic or reason. The world becomes a brighter place, you feel complete—things like that."

"So _that's_ what it's like?" Jensen asked as if he'd found the secret to the world.

"I've heard actual people describe it like that to me. It turns into this 'magical' thing that's almost indescribable. It makes you do things you'd never done before. It changes you almost completely."

"But what about you? What was it like for you?" Jensen pressed.

Malachi was beginning to wonder the same thing, but he'd made his peace with such things long ago. It was something he didn't openly admit to, knowing that others wouldn't understand. The 'falling in love' part was something he didn't think was possible for him not in the way he knew it was supposed to be. He couldn't think of any woman which would cause the same kind of things to manifest in himself. He couldn't picture himself as the lovesick man he'd painted countless times in his music or any music that spoke on such things. He could _pretend_ to be that person and believe in it enough to convey it convincingly, but actuality was a different thing altogether. Bra had certainly not caused these things to happen nor did he think that would ever be the case. But whatever they had—he considered _that_ to be love. It was nothing spectacular. Nothing that blew his mind. He'd feel sad if she decided to cut him out of her life. In reality, he'd feel sad over no longer being accepted in her family. That was the part he couldn't quite understand—he felt strongly about her family, about being able to step into a house and be surrounded by people who actually cared about him. In many ways, he often felt like Bra was a means to an end. She was the icing on the cake, but he liked the cake better than the icing and probably wouldn't be too upset if it was just a cake without any icing. That latter couldn't exist however. What was a cake without it's icing? It would still be edible, but it would always be missing something.

"Listen, Jensen, you've posed some difficult questions, but I want to be completely open with you. I don't want you repeating this to everyone, though, alright? This is just between me and you. Can you do that for me, Jensen? Keep it between us? Nod if you understand."

Jensen nodded at him wide eyed.

Malachi had looked towards him for a moment to see this action and then his eyes returned to the seemingly endless road in front of them. "Good," he said with a sigh. He didn't begin immediately as he tried to get his thoughts in order first. He knew Jensen was all ears ready to absorb everything he had to say.

"My intentions were to find someone who I would like to spend the rest of my life with—the thought of being alone never seemed like a pleasant future. Falling in love? That was something I never put much stock into. It didn't seem real and I didn't want that anyways. I'd always had acquaintances, lady friends who I would spend time with whenever I felt the need, but I was interested in none of them. I began to form some mental list of things I'd like to find in a person and it grew longer after every failed attempt at dating others. Others loved me unconditionally—that wasn't the issue. It was whether I could return the favor. I found that I couldn't over and over again. The mental list in my mind was beginning to sound like a person that wasn't real. I'd never find that person. I was willing to make compromises eventually. I was willing to settle. It was all quite a tiring process. I realized that not everyone could be so choosy with this sort of thing and that I was being silly and bratty about it. Maybe someone so picky didn't deserve to find anyone. I ignored those things even if it was in the back of my mind and began to do more research in places where it might be possible to find the person who I was looking for.

"Then I found her. Not from randomly walking into her at a café or passing by her from happenstance—no. I heard tale of her first from other disgruntled men, then I did some digging to see if there really was someone who fit her description—sister of the CEO of Capsule Corporation; an heiress. I didn't run in her circles at all. In fact, she was not in particular a socialite and surprisingly closed off from the general public. She was sheltered, but that didn't stop her name from popping up every so often in social media even if it was a short blurb. And from that small amount of information I liked everything I heard. The guys which had spoken so bitterly of her were idiots who seemed to be of the "macho" variety. From that, I assumed she was someone more independent who preferred those who were not-so soft. Already, I was interested enough to go and see for myself, to meet her in person to confirm my suspicions. Of course, that was easier said than done.

"I might have hired someone to find out the places she frequented. Doing it on my own, would have been quite difficult. Sometimes my disguises don't always work and I don't always have so much time on my hands to spend on things like that. You understand?" Malachi didn't wait to see the other's response before he continued. "I didn't 'run' into her immediately. There were plenty of misses before I did finally get lucky. Everything else was history. Did you know she didn't believe who I said I was after I told her? It took her awhile to warm up to the idea. My impersonators must be quite convincing.

"I liked everything about her and I knew I wouldn't find anyone else quite like her. She stood apart from others, a princess in her own right. She was a woman who felt with all her heart, stubborn, and surprisingly intelligent. I knew that she loved me and that she didn't take it lightly. From her it felt different. When she looks at me sometimes, it feels intense and passionate. I know I could never return the favor, but I do like when I see that from her. I know it's selfish of me.

"Maybe I've already fallen in love and I don't even know it, but I made my decision long ago about her. It is as close as I could possibly get to doing that sort of thing. It is as close as I want to get. The very thought of blindly following someone out of some intangible need to do so seems ridiculous. But," Malachi said as he switched lanes to pass a particularly slow car, "it makes for an interesting subject with endless ways of describing it. I should know."

Malachi found himself talking far more than he anticipated, but Jensen was a good listener. He could tell he had the other's undivided attention as he felt the other's eyes on him. There was a look of child-like wonder on his face as he listened. He doubted the other understood everything he was saying. Uncannily intuitive as Jensen seemed to be—he was still just a child. Being fed information and experiencing things were quite a bit different from one another.

"Anything else you want to ask?" Malachi asked after a moment and the other had said nothing more, probably still trying to digest everything.

Jensen shook his head slowly. "No. It's just…" He turned his head to the window again. "Why do you have to make it all so complicated?"

"I try not to," Malachi replied, "Maybe ask simpler questions."

Malachi waited for the other's reply, but after he said nothing further for a while, he turned up the volume again. Articulating his thoughts wasn't one of his forte's and it wasn't an altogether easy endeavor. In fact, it wasn't something he did very often. He was more akin to interpreting and making things fit to suit his needs. Speaking his mind? Well, that would hardly be of any use. He was by no means a master at manipulating others, but he knew enough to get by. With Jensen, he was finding it easier to let his guard down. Try as he might, he couldn't sense any ill will from the child. He was beginning to think he truly was innocent and it was oddly refreshing.

Looking down at the ETA on the navigational device in the vehicle, there were still a few hours to go. He pressed his foot on the speed a bit more. At the very least, he'd be able to pass the time with music and Jensen wasn't bad company.

* * *

 **AN** : Bonding. Longer than I thought it would be.

 **WildHeart44:** You're right, that would be downright awkward. Laputa is apparently chilling. Probably thinking up some long, convoluted nefarious plan to wreck things up. Mhuhahahaha! Something like that, I guess.


	43. Misaligned Mates & Potential Paradise

**Pan could hardly sleep the past night and despite her best efforts to calm herself, she was still quite antsy.** Ever since Malachi called her the previous day asking to come visit her, she could scarcely contain herself. She couldn't tell if she was excited or frightened for the prospects. She'd only been able to regain her composure the last time she'd seen him because he hadn't been himself. It hadn't been the real Malachi that she was talking to. This time would be different and far more difficult to handle. There was really no way to prepare for it other than to be herself.

Since it was the weekend, Pan would have time to spare for Malachi. In reality, she had had other plans, but she cancelled them all on account of Malachi. She paced about her apartment living room wondering when she'd finally hear his knocks at the door. Though she tried to remain calm, she was failing miserably. This day, she would finally meet Malachi properly and talk with him. He needed her help and she was willing to provide it.

He was just a man and a human at that yet somehow, he'd managed to win the hearts of the vast majority. He was magnificent in his own right, breathing life into an entire genre, becoming a phenomenon that others followed, and he did this with what looked like practiced ease. He was always well poised and represented himself as someone that anyone could look up to. He was surrounded by a constant air of positivity and he had a smile that could brighten the world. This larger-than-life celebrity would be standing at her doorstep soon.

Of course, Bra would wound up with a guy like that. She was special; a halo seemed to follow her around. Even when she was only a child, Bra always appeared above everyone else. She'd called herself a princess and Pan had believed her. A woman like that could attract a man like Malachi. Bra probably dealt with him in a dignified way and probably never fell to the level of "fangirl" when around him. They lived together as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

Pan sighed. She knew the only way she'd be able to calm herself was by actually meeting him and seeing that he was just a guy and not the person she'd built up in her mind. Besides, Bra had talked about him frequently in a negative light. Perhaps there was nothing for her to be worried about if only she could take Malachi down from his perpetual pedestal in her mind.

After far too many hours of wakefulness, she heard a knock at the door. Pan took a deep breath, walked over, and then opened the door. Before her stood a tall hooded man much to her surprise and at his side was a little boy. When she noticed the child, she did a double take as she thought for a moment that she was looking at a much, much younger Malachi. The man easily slid his hood back to reveal who she suspected.

She was face to face with him—closer than she'd ever thought she'd be to him and immediately she began blushing. There was no way to stop or hide it. In fact, at this very moment, she was utterly mute. His dark, shiny hair was straight and shoulder length and stood out against his porcelain skin. Dark eyes seemed to peer straight into her soul under long, thick eyelashes. A partial smile came to his lips and it was enough to make her begin to feel a bit faint. Her senses were already going into overdrive trying to take in every inch of him from his scent to the way he stood in her doorway.

"Hey, sorry for the poor disguise, but it gets tiring to have to figure something out every time I want to go somewhere—this is my old standby."

He held out his hand now expecting her to shake it, but she stood frozen gazing at the other numbly. He withdrew his hand after a moment of awkward silence. She was finding it hard to breathe.

"I brought my son, Jensen, along—hope you don't mind. He gets bored really easily if I leave him alone too long," he said with a short laugh.

 _Did he just…laugh?_ Pan's mind shouted. It was a beautiful laugh—a perfect one. It was the only way she could describe it. She knew she was making a complete fool out of herself at the moment. All that time she'd been tasking herself with acting normal when the time came, and she was already not doing so well.

"Daddy, is she alright?" Jensen's small voice questioned. "She looks…sick."

Malachi had peered down at the child as he spoke, now he looked back at her. "She'll be fine," he said good-naturedly. Then he stepped a little closer to her—a move that was not helping things—and then he clicked his fingers in her face a few times. "Snap out of it already—it's just me, Bra's boyfriend." She could smell his minty breath now, clearly he hadn't eaten anything in the past few hours. Then he placed one hand on her shoulder and shook her harder than she anticipated. "Geez, am I talking to a brick wall? It's not like we haven't met before."

That drew her out of her stupor as she tried to process his last sentence. "What are you talking about—we never actually met before."

"We did more than just meet. Or did you forget the sound beating you gave me last time?"

"You…remember all that?" she asked confused.

"I do. Every single detail."

She was surprised by this as she began to see him in a different light. Not knowing was one thing, but being fully cognizant of the things he had been doing while it happened was another story altogether. Perhaps it was far worse. "That must be terrible," Pan said in realization.

"Ah, yeah, sure," he replied dismissively not at all as dramatic as the other, "Are you going to invite us in?"

"Um, oh, sorry. Yes, please come in," Pan said finally stepping aside and allowing the two entrance.

She'd cleaned the place up, of course, in light of him visiting, but she didn't have too much to do in that regard. Everything was sparkling clean by now. She heard as he took a seat on one of the couches as she closed the door. She didn't turn around immediately as she tried to calm her racing heart.

"So, how was the drive here? Hopefully there wasn't too much traffic," Pan said trying to make small talk.

"It was pretty clear out there. Not a single car accident in sight. We started out a bit late though—sorry for making you wait."

"Oh, no," she said shaking her head, "You're fine. I wasn't in any rush." She closed her eyes slowly as her breathing returned to normal. "I'm more surprised you didn't just fly over here—it's much easier and faster."

"Right; you guys are used to that kind of thing. Maybe I'll do it when I'm desperate, but I'd rather not be seen doing it in public."

"Wait," she said as a thought came to her, "Didn't they see you at the tournament flying?"

"Special effects," he replied. "Nobody thought anything of it."

"Taking a page out of Hercule's book, huh?" Pan said grinning to herself.

"Now that you mention it—I guess so."

She took her hand off the doorknob. "How are you feeling?—I mean, after that whole kidnapping thing with Laputa."

"Better than last week," he answered. "How about you? Have you cooled off enough yet?"

This brought a burning blush across her cheeks as he pointed out the thing she was trying to squash before it could be noticed. She supposed it was too late by now. Finally, she turned to him after she deemed herself ready despite the subtle redness still on her cheeks—it was either now or never, better to rip off the Band-Aid than slowly peel it off.

"Sorry about my awkwardness earlier. I guess I just wasn't prepared to meet you."

"It's alright," he said nonchalantly. He hadn't exactly made himself comfortable on the couch; he sat at the edge of it with his head propped up by clasped hands. Jensen, on the other hand, sat all the way back with his feet hanging off the edge. "You'll soon be disappointed once you get to know me a little better," he said with a chuckle.

This time when her eyes took him in, she was able to see him properly. He seemed too pale, almost ghostly and she wondered if it was always like that or if he was still recovering. His eyes appeared tired as she noticed the presence of blue veins. None of these things put her off, however, as she decided to find a seat on a separate couch instead of joining him. It made him appear more normal which did wonders for her rattled mind. More than that, it made her a bit more concerned about his condition. "Better than last week" wasn't the most optimistic answer.

Pan took a deep breath as she built up the nerve to look at him directly. His eyes met hers unabashedly. "Let's just cut to the chase, shall we?" Pan said. "You want me to help you with this whole ascension thing. First of all, you need to tell me how it was like when you did it the first time."

She wasn't even sure if she could help him in the first place, but he had insisted. Even now, she was still dubious that it had even happened. Granted, she had sensed some strange spikes in ki a few weeks prior, but had that been Malachi?

"That's the hard part," he replied, "I can barely remember it happening. Even now, all I seem to recall are flashes of light and I just take everyone else's word as to what they saw. Everything seems to be moving so fast." He was looking elsewhere as she could tell he was trying to remember something further. "Was it like that for you?"

Pan shook her head. "That was never an issue, but that doesn't invalidate what _you_ experienced. It's different for everyone. Grandpa told me about the time he first transformed—he described it as this intense need to protect everyone. He was everyone's last hope and he told me that he'd never felt more responsible for everyone else's wellbeing than at that moment after watching his best friend die at the hands of his enemy. My father, he told me it was something he struggled at in the beginning. He was always at the cusp, but not quite there. He wanted his father to see him as his equal and not as a helpless child or one that needed to be babied—he didn't want to keep letting his friends down. Then one day after many days of intense training with his father—it happened just like that. He built himself up to it until he was able to do it."

"And you?" Malachi asked when she paused for a moment.

"I wanted to prove everyone wrong. I'm far more human than I am Saiyan and no one was sure I could even transform in the first place. I was more like my mother finding it difficult to manipulate ki in the beginning. It took me longer to do things, but I trained my body relentlessly because it was something I wanted to do—I loved fighting. I looked up to Grandpa, but I didn't know him for very long not like everyone else. It was enough though to instill my love for combat. No matter how hard I trained, however, it never happened until one day I let go of all my inhibitions. Doubt had been holding me back. When I truly believed in myself, it opened up the way to my first transformation." Pan noticed the other watching her intently. "Now, tell me, Malachi, why do you think it happened to you at that moment? What were you feeling?"

"Is that really important," he asked uncertainly.

"Very. If you did it before, then the best way to repeat it is to somehow replicate the conditions especially since it doesn't seem like it'll come easy. And ascending has a lot to do with one's state of mind. There's not any one way you have to be to do it, but it's always something that you feel really passionate about. Clearly, there was something _you_ felt strongly about before."

He sighed, but didn't start immediately. He still sat on the edge of the couch, no more relaxed than he'd been since he stepped in. "Moments before it happened, I'd been arguing with Vegeta—I mean, it's never a good idea to do that with that guy, but clearly I had a death wish. I'd wanted to…impress him, I've always wanted to do that probably from the moment we first met. I don't understand why entirely, but it's just something I feel compelled to do," he said shaking his head slowly. "He seemed to believe in me that I was worth training and putting time into, then he just abandoned it completely, his reasoning being that I couldn't handle his training. It was no longer amusing for him, he lost interest in the novelty, I guess."

"That must have been hard on you—to feel like your mentor had given up on you," Pan said.

"My mentor?" he asked puzzled.

"Yeah," Pan said, "He's the one who really introduced you to fighting, right? You trusted him and you probably listened to anything he had to say on the subject. That's what training is—I mean, I know _I_ wouldn't just listen to any, old person when it comes to that. You recognized that he was good at his craft and you wanted him to impart that knowledge to you."

"No, I…" He seemed confused even with what he was saying, "He's Bra's father and I know she really loves him and she really trusts his opinions—a lot of people do. It would be advantageous for me to be on good terms with him and the best way to do that is to do things that _he_ likes to do. I needed him to like me if my relationship with Bra was ever going to have any longevity, so I dove headfirst into fighting. I would have done it anyway whether Bra put me in the hospital or not, but it was an added bonus and I used that excuse to convince him to train me. It was convenient."

"Convenient at first perhaps," Pan said trying to reconcile his motivations, "But somewhere along the line, you actually started enjoying it. Training is no small undertaking especially not with Vegeta and I've heard you've really been working hard. No one puts that many hours into something if they weren't getting something out of it. Moments before, you said he abandoned you—"

"I said that he abandoned his role of training," Malachi corrected her staunchly.

"But look at the word you just used: Abandoned. You didn't say that he simply _stopped_ training you, he _abandoned_ training you as if you felt he was obligated to do it. You expected him to always be there to train you."

He was no longer making eye contact with her as he spoke. "Perhaps…I did have certain expectations. It made sense. When he explained to me why he could no longer train me, it seemed logical yet I never liked it. I didn't like being trained by Tien even if it was enlightening."

"Because you felt he betrayed your trust. You relied on him for validation and when he ripped it away, you felt abandoned."

When he looked at her now, she found anger there enough to give her pause. Luckily, she was not physically intimidated by Malachi despite her own reverence of him and his music.

"How can I feel betrayed if I never trusted him in the first place? I've never needed validation from anyone—I do as I see fit at any given time whether people agree with what I do or not. And I've never in my life felt abandoned. Will you stop putting words in my mouth?"

Pan glanced over at Jensen who looked to be watching in obvious interest, but who had remained silent the entire time. He gave her no further clues about Malachi. She was no psychiatrist, but it was clear to her that there were other deep-seated issues going on just beneath the surface. She wondered if this might be hindering him especially if he was in this much denial about things. All those things that he said he never felt before were bold faced lies and it seemed he didn't realize it himself. An orphan would feel those things perhaps even more so than others. It would be constant and overarching; she imagined it would be hard to overcome. She didn't think now was the time to press him further—she hardly knew him. It would probably be better simply to move on.

"Alright," Pan said giving in to his explanation. "I apologize. You simply didn't like the way Vegeta seemed to lose interest in training you," she said using the other's verbiage. "Is this where that argument stemmed from?"

"Yes," he said uncertainly, "It had something to do with it, at least. He wasn't training me anymore so it's not like he could see my progress with his own eyes. Yet he was making judgements as if he'd been there the entire time. Who was he to say that it wasn't possible for me to ascend? He made it sound like I was being silly. I couldn't believe it. The thing that I said from the get-go—that I planned to one day defeat him in a fight—he considered it to be silly. He took my goals and belittled them like they meant absolutely nothing to him. He made me feel…"

"Yes?" Pan asked.

He'd been gazing at the ground intently as if he was in his own world until that moment. He seemed to realize he was in a room with other people. He glanced at her before continuing. "I was tired of trying to convince him and it didn't help that I had little patience at the time. My head was pounding like someone was bashing a hammer against it every second. I said the wrong thing and he sent me flying through the house. I think in that moment, for whatever reason, I expected to die. I overstepped my boundaries, I couldn't convince him of anything, and I was in so much pain that I couldn't even think straight."

"Daddy…" Jensen said wearily. He seemed to be pouting now. "Stop thinking stuff like that. Nobody wants you to die so stop thinking like that!"

Malachi looked over at Jensen for a moment silently. "Sorry, I—"

"And since I can heal people, _I_ won't let that happen."

"Pretty bold claims for someone who doesn't know how they did that in the first place," Malachi said.

"I don't care," Jensen said stubbornly.

"It's alright," Pan said looking at Malachi, "I think we're finally getting somewhere. Expecting something like that—it means your back was against the wall and you believed there were no more options left for you."

"In the past, I was always scared of it—dying. But since I met Bra and she had Machi and now there's Jensen," he said indicating his son with a tilt of his head, "that fear is no longer a factor. If it happens, then it happens—I feel as if I've done everything I've ever set out to do. Everything else is just icing on the cake."

"Daddy," Jensen complained again.

"That's just how I feel."

Pan was a little taken aback by this, but it did help explain things a bit better. "That's very important to know," she said, "You're not motivated by fear even though you felt as if you could die at that moment. Then what happened? What were you feeling?"

"I think at that moment I made a decision. I wanted so badly for him to take me seriously and there was only one way to do that. That's when it happened. I remember feeling all that pain, all those emotions disappear—all I wanted to do was fight. That's the last thing I remember clearly." He was looking at her again.

"When you fully commit to doing something, it makes all the difference in the world. When you're no longer holding back, you can put all your strength into it—that is a very powerful thing and easier said than done. Without even knowing, people hold back a little even if they honestly think they're giving it their all. It is at pivotal moments like these that it's actually true. And that singular intent to fight that you felt—that is something that you share with everyone else who has ever ascended. With that much power flowing through your veins, it becomes an intense need. It's always difficult at first to even think with a level head afterwards—your entire mentality just changes. Maybe for you that change was so drastic that you couldn't comprehend what was happening. Like being a different person altogether."

"Is that what happened?" he asked with wonder.

"I don't know. I'm just throwing ideas out there from my own experience. There's no way to tell unless I see it for myself."

"I was thinking it was because I was doing things at a level that I can't even visualize as I am now. Maybe there's not a way around that."

"That may very well be it or maybe a combination of the two: not being able to follow because things are going too fast _and_ because you've changed too much mentally to recall."

"Does that mean you believe me when I said it happened? You sounded skeptical on the phone."

"Well, I'll withhold judgement until I see more," she said, "But coming into the situation thinking that it's all a lie is no way to help you. I have no choice but to believe everything you've told me—it's all I have to work with. I want to give you the benefit of the doubt."

"I suppose that's something," he replied wearily, "But what does all this have to do with do with repeating it? I feel no closer to understanding things."

"You mean this hasn't helped you at all? Part of reaching a new level is being in the right mindset. It doesn't just happen just because you really want it to. That's why you came here. That's why you asked for my help."

"Right, but this seems…tedious."

"Geez, give me a break. I've never done anything like this with anyone. No one's ever asked for _my_ expertise. I'm always the one receiving the advice. I thought about my own experience with all this and I thought it would have been helpful if I had someone to talk to about it emotionally. It took me so much more longer to figure things out all on my own. I was fighting for different reasons than my dad. He did it out of necessity, but I was doing it because I actually liked it."

"I see," he said after a moment.

"Remember that feeling. Remember that sensation right before it happened. It will help you do it again. But enough talking. Now it's time to see what you can do," Pan said as she stood up. "But we should find an isolated place. Are you ready?"

Satan City was surrounded by forests on almost all sides for miles and miles. That would be a good place for them.

"I'm more than ready," Malachi answered her as he too stood along with Jensen.

"Good," Pan said with a smile.

* * *

 **They'd been out there for a few hours now and Pan still wasn't satisfied with Malachi's capabilities.**

"Again!" Pan shouted at him.

He formed another ki blast in his outstretched palm presumably as quickly as possible and shot it forth towards her—she was able to deflect it just as easily as the other million times he'd done it.

"Is this really the fastest you can bring forth your energy?" Pan asked.

"What does it matter anyway?" Malachi growled.

She could tell the other was growing annoyed with this, but he seemed no more motivated to do what she was asking of him.

"You're holding back for some reason," Pan explained.

"I'm not," Malachi said steadily.

"Then try again."

He looked none too pleased with her as his dark eyes gazed at her intently. A stray wind passed over them and played with his silky locks. For a moment she was taken back in time when she stood before Malachi mere seconds before the fight began—he had the same expression on his face. If she remembered it, she wondered if the Malachi standing in front of her did as well.

"Look, Daddy, she means like this," Jensen said breaking the growing tension.

Jensen formed and launched a ki blast so rapidly from his fingertips that Pan barely had time to dodge.

"Geez, kid, give a girl some warning next time!" Pan shouted in surprise.

"Sorry!" Jensen said earnestly, "But did I do it right?"

Malachi was looking at the child with disbelief. "How did you learn how to do that? Is that just something else you can do?"

Jensen shook his head as he pulled some of his ample hair behind his ears. "No, Vegeta taught me one time. It's really easy."

"Easy?" Malachi asked wide-eyed. "I don't even remember when that could have happened."

"You weren't around," Jensen explained.

"And that was just some random thing Vegeta decided to teach you?" Malachi asked.

"Yep," Jensen said with a smile.

"Jensen, that's exactly what I've been asking this whole time," Pan said. "That was impressive. Now your daddy just has to do the same thing." She looked to Malachi now waiting for his retaliation whether it be verbal or with a decent ki blast.

She watched him form another ki blast without a second thought, but it was more of the same and it was beginning to get on Pan's nerves. This was the kind of guy who could ascend? Maybe it was all just a fluke. Pan dashed towards him now deciding to add a little pressure. He sent a few blasts her way, but then moved completely out of the way when she became too close after deflecting his other flimsy ki blasts.

"I need you to get serious!" Pan shouted at the other. "No more holding back!"

"How many times do I have to tell you? I'm not!" he yelled back.

He was becoming emotional—good. She shot through the air towards him as he had his palms pointed towards her as if to conjure yet another ki blast. She was watching his hands so intently that she failed to process what he did a split second later. He'd disappeared right before her eyes and a second later she found him behind her. He gripped her tightly against him with his arms shooting under her arms to pull her back aggressively. She couldn't do much physically in the hold that he had her in. His closeness immediately brought more redness to her cheeks. Feeling his body against hers…

"See?" Malachi said teasingly, "I'm taking this very seriously, but my efficiency at doing ki blasts is not a very accurate indicator as to how good I am overall."

"That's nice to hear, but you're defeating the purpose of my exercise." In an instant, she brought forth her aura and pushed the other back forcefully. "I want you to fully embrace your ki as if it is an extension of yourself and not some strange new skill that you just learned. Let it flow unhindered."

"You're just nitpicking at this point," Malachi said as he too brought forth his aura but it was clear and misty; it snaked lazily into the air as if it were the smoke off a good bonfire. "This is how it's always been."

"Then you will always stay at this level," Pan said back haughtily. "How can someone like that ever hope to ascend?"

Now Malachi was the aggressor as he shot towards her through the air. She grinned at his determination. Flashes of the fight from before came to her—his determination hadn't changed in the least. He'd wanted to overcome her and she could still see it in his eyes. He tried for more ki blasts, but she saw them coming a mile away. She evaded him easily and shot off a hefty ki blast at point blank. It would have been impossible for him to evade and he took the brunt of it head on, sending him sailing into the ground below.

"Is this really the best you can do?" Pan asked to the dirt cloud beneath her.

As it began to clear, she could see Malachi standing having climbed back to his feet. He looked a little roughed up but otherwise fine. She hated seeing him so unkempt, but she knew he could handle it. She liked this as well about him. He would never be discouraged despite everything being stacked against him.

"Hey! Don't hurt Daddy so much!" Jensen shouted breaking their heated gaze at one another.

"Jensen—stand back over there," Malachi said pointing at a far-off tree, "Don't interrupt us again."

"But—"

"Please, Jensen, everything will be fine," Malachi interrupted the child.

"Alright, but you better not get yourself hurt too badly!"

Malachi watched the other move out of the way. Once satisfied, Pan was graced again with his intense gaze that was threatening to melt her into pitiful puddle of pure satisfaction. At that moment, she just wanted to fight him to her heart's content just like he was begging her to do. She was trying to convince herself that this was all part of training, but as they began to trade blows she knew better. She'd found a kindred spirit who enjoyed fighting just as much as she did even if he wouldn't say as much. The passion that she felt from him was enough for her to draw her own conclusions.

At some point, she forgot to go easy on him and she was starting to draw blood. He'd gotten a few good shots in on her as well. Sometimes he was a bit tricky to get a hold of, popping up in places that she didn't expect and throwing her off her balance. In this, he was a master. It made things all the more exciting. Her senses were in overdrive constantly trying to predict his next move. She was right only some of the time. When next she predicted his move right, she clenched down her hands to grip his own in hers, then twirled around as fast as she could to gain momentum and sent Malachi shooting into the ground. She never heard the impact and immediately she was looking around for him. Left, right—no, right above her. She felt the warmth of his energy before anything else and she was met with a point blank ki blast that sent her falling downward for the first time that day. He didn't stop there as he dropkicked her further in her stunned state. She was ready for the next time he'd attack her to further increase her downward trajectory, but it never came.

She stopped herself well before she hit and then she felt his presence beneath her. She twirled around just in time to deflect the ki blast being sent her way, but not the other massive one that came from above at the same exact time.

"How…?" Pan said to herself as she knew she couldn't evade this one—it was too close.

Malachi had literally been in two places at once—had it been a clone or was he just that fast? It was too late to speculate as she finally hit the ground and made a massive crater. Getting struck by the blast hadn't been so bad. It hadn't been formed with the intent of incapacitating her. It was large, but it held little bite. At the very least, she could say that he had good control over his ki, able to manipulate his blasts to suit the situation.

"That was good," Pan said as she climbed to her feet.

He'd landed before her with mist still spiraling around him. Right away, she could see that his ki presented itself in a way she'd not seen before, but it appeared no less potent. She'd bruised him a bit, but he seemed unfazed by this.

"That was a nice warm-up," Pan continued. "Can you feel it now? Power coursing through your veins easily. This is the state in which it is the easiest to ascend. Now follow my lead," she instructed. He nodded back at her.

It was either now or never and she didn't want to expend so much of his strength that he wouldn't have enough needed to transform. She brought forth more of her energy bit by bit and she felt Malachi doing the same. She was taking it slow so that the other would have an easier time copying her. Wind generated from their increasing energy, began to blow harder and harder and soon their cries could be heard all through the forest.

She was amazed by how easily he was able to keep up. His ki was skyrocketing, rising above what she thought he was capable of. She encouraged him, yelling out to him as she knew they were getting to the most difficult part, breaching what felt like the pinnacle of their power. Malachi had to go beyond that. At the rate they were going, Pan believed that it would be a breeze, but shortly into it, he began to struggle.

"Don't hold back anymore!" Pan yelled out, "I know it _feels_ like this is all you got, but it's _not_! Let go of everything! Don't think, just do!"

She thought she felt his ki level move up further as he growled aggressively against whatever invisible obstacle he was fighting against. Then in the snap of a finger, his energy disappeared, and he fell to his knees in apparent exhaustion. _No!_ she thought to herself as she ran to his side instinctively.

"Talk to me, Malachi. Are you alright?" Pan asked as she squatted down to his level.

He breathed freely through his mouth and it took him a moment to find the words. "Almost there," he said breathlessly, "I was so close, but I couldn't do it."

"Why?" Pan pressed.

"I think it was like you said—I was holding back, but I know what to do next time."

"You do?"

He nodded and then looked up at her. "Next time I'll do it," he said confidently. "I can see it so clearly in my mind. Thank you for your guidance."

"Don't thank me yet. I won't be satisfied until I actually see it."

He took this time to sit down properly. "Fair enough," he replied. He was still trying to catch his breath as she too sat beside him. It wasn't long until Jensen joined them.

They sat silently for a while until Jensen broke the silence. "Are you okay?" he asked to Malachi.

"I'm fine," he said laying back onto the ground. His breathing was finally beginning to calm. "That just took…a lot out of me."

When Pan looked back at him, she noticed that he'd closed his eyes as his hair lay splayed beneath him. She watched as he slowly fell asleep completely.

"Did that happen to you too?" Jensen asked to Pan drawing her attention.

"What do you mean?"

"Did transforming take a lot out of you?"

"It did," Pan said looking up to the sky, "But we Saiyans can recover a lot faster than humans. I was at it all day before it actually happened. As you can see," Pan said glancing back at Malachi, "that kind of intense, repetitive training isn't possible here. He needs time to recover each and every time he attempts something like this."

"So does that mean you believe he can do it?" Jensen asked.

Pan nodded. "I know that he believes. It's hard not to take him at his word. C'mon, we're done for the day."

She gathered Malachi onto her back before standing up. Then she shot into the sky with Jensen keenly following behind. They made it home in record time and she set Malachi down on the sofa soon after. It wasn't long before Jensen was asking about food and she decided to order out pizza.

"I guess I wasn't sure what I was expecting," Pan said aloud as they waited for the pizza while watching television. "But I guess you two will have to stay for another day unless your mom desperately wants him back tonight. I suppose I could carry him home."

"I'm sure she won't mind," Jensen said simply.

"Well, let me make sure. Stay here, I'll be back."

Pan looked around a bit for her cellphone and then stepped outside to the balcony to call her best friend. She would feel better if Bra was kept updated about things. She didn't want any misunderstandings.

"Hey, Pan," Bra said cordially, "Is everything going alright over there?"

"It's going fine, better than I expected. I think he very nearly did it today."

"Hm…that's good news, I guess."

"You don't sound all that excited about that."

"That's because I'm not. I think he should stop doing this altogether. I mean, who's he trying to impress? He's not even in tiptop form not like how he used to be not with those headaches all the time and now that thing with Laputa. I think he just needs to slow down, but I can't stop him no matter what I say."

"Headaches?" Pan asked curiously.

"More specifically migraines. They're ten times worse than just a headache and he gets them all the time. He thinks if he doesn't talk about it I'll forget, but I know what's going on. I just don't get it sometimes. Maybe…maybe you could help me."

"In what way?" Pan asked mystified.

"You know, discouraging him a bit. I mean, if Laputa comes back, my father will take care of him. Malachi doesn't have to be involved at all."

"Well, I…You know I'm no good at lying. He'd probably see right through me."

Bra sighed. "You're probably right. Guess I know that firsthand," she finished with a laugh.

"I just wanted to ask if he could stay over for another day—it'd be much easier that way."

"Why?" Bra asked quickly.

"Well, he's pretty spent right now so I'd have to fly him back myself—it'd just be easier to have him stay here. We still have some more to do tomorrow."

Bra was quiet for a while which made Pan a bit nervous. "Fine. Do what you need to. You're honestly training him, aren't you? I felt you two fighting."

"Yeah," she said in quieter tones.

"Well, just remember he's not like you and I. He can't take as much even if he says that he can."

"Alright, I'll keep that in mind," Pan reassured the other. "Jensen's doing alright too."

"I know. As long as he's with Malachi, he's always in a good mood."

"Alright," Pan said wanting to end the call. The entire conversation was starting to leave a sour taste in her mouth. "Hopefully tomorrow will be it."

"Hopefully," Bra repeated with less enthusiasm. "Alright, girl, good night. It's been a bit of a long day for me."

"Good night. I won't keep ya."

After they hung up, Pan sighed to herself. It seemed like Bra and Malachi were on two different wavelengths. She went to bed soon after. Jensen slept out on the other couch in the living room and had no issues falling asleep. Though she'd been restless before, after the workout she'd gotten that day, it wasn't too hard to follow in suit and she eventually began to dream.

* * *

 **She found herself standing on a roof in a place that was completely unfamiliar to her, but it all made sense to her.** It was in the dead of night and the stars shined brilliantly in the sky. For a long while, all she did was gaze up at them until a noise drew her away. When she looked behind herself, Malachi was there looking at her with unfathomable eyes; her breath caught in her throat. He approached her silently until he was standing right beside her. She knew she must have been staring too long, but she couldn't help but take in every inch of his face. He indicated the sky with a tilt of his head and she turned to it once again. They stood like that for what felt like ages and for some reason she didn't want it to end. She was satisfied. This was the best she felt in a long time.

Then she felt a sickness fall over her suddenly, a nausea so severe that she felt like vomiting right then and there. She bent over in pain. She could feel his hand on her shoulder and when she looked up she found concern in his eyes, but she shook her head. She had no idea what was wrong. She had no idea what was happening.

Then she was awake in her bed with the same strange abdominal pain. It was worse than any cramps she'd suffered during her usual menstrual cycle and there was something foreign about it. The onset had been too quick. Slowly, she climbed out of bed sensing a heaviness in the atmosphere—it was coming from somewhere. As she followed her senses, she found herself standing before the couch where Malachi still rested. He seemed utterly uncomfortably, moaning in his sleep and sweating profusely. She lowered herself to her knees and shook him at first gently and then with more force. He didn't wake immediately, but when he did, the atmosphere changed completely. The heaviness in the air was gone along with her sickness. She turned the lamp beside the couch on a low setting so that she could see a little better, but Jensen wouldn't be awakened.

"Pan?" he asked groggily as his eyes sought her out. She could clearly see confusion in his eyes.

"Welcome back to the land of the living," Pan said quietly, "I took you back to my apartment and it's really early in the morning right about now."

He sat up slowly as she continued to talk. "I…Sorry, I didn't mean to impose."

"Don't mention it. Everything's fine. Bra knows and she's totally alright with it. So is Jensen. Ordered out pizza earlier."

He was sitting on the edge of the couch again, but this time his head was lowered into his hands. He sighed deeply.

"Was it a nightmare?" Pan asked as she sat down beside him. She wasn't sure if she should have asked, but she was curious and he was clearly stressed. Either that or he was still trying to catch his bearings.

"Not quite," he answered after a while.

Pan waited for the other to continue—that's if he was planning to in the first place. The last thing she wanted to do was seem as if she was being too nosy. The silence went on for a full minute before he spoke again.

"I was trapped in this cage. I really wanted to get out, but it seemed impossible no matter what I did. It was strange. I guess, I'm glad you woke me."

"Me too." She watched as the other made no further movements; it seemed he was perfectly content to remain in his current position. "I had a dream like that once, actually more than once when I was right on the cusp of ascending. Something was always holding me back. Maybe that's what your dream was trying to tell you."

"Maybe," Malachi said wearily, "But it was frustrating all the same."

They sat in silence for a little while before Pan placed a tentative hand on his shoulder. "Are you alright?" She noticed his hands shaking. Perhaps he was more scared than what he was letting on.

Malachi looked up at her eventually and she noticed immediately the string of blood crawling from his nose.

"Here," Pan said quickly as she reached back to the table behind her, grabbed a few tissues from the box and handed it to him.

He seemed to not know that there was anything wrong as he looked at the tissues with some confusion before putting two and two together. Either he really didn't notice it himself or that this was so commonplace that he was no longer alarmed by it. He wiped the blood away quickly and looked away from her.

"Sorry," he murmured, "This is quite embarrassing."

"It's alright. Bra told me about your migraines—that is what this is, right?"

"I don't know what this is," he said wearily, "But whatever it is, it's gotten worse. It always gets worse." He laid his head down on the armrest away from her. "It will pass like it always does."

"Are you really going to feel up to continuing this training today? You don't have to do this, you know. No one's forcing you."

"I want to do this," Malachi said with closed eyes. "I have to."

"But why?" Pan asked out of curiosity.

"I want to be the one who defeats Laputa," Malachi said steadily. "I know it's silly and I know there's no reason to believe I'd be able to defeat him even if I did attain another level."

"It's not silly," Pan said, "I think I understand. You lived with him for a long time, didn't you? He forced you to do things you really didn't want to. I can understand wanting to get revenge for all that."

"It's not revenge," Malachi replied, "I wasn't really forced to do those things. I…wanted to and I feel no regrets about my actions. No matter how hard I try, I just don't feel guilty. And I know that that's wrong. Sometimes…" his voice became a bit shaky, "Sometimes I wish he was still with me. That's why he _must_ die, and it would give me peace of mind if I was the one who defeated him."

"Malachi," Pan said as she looked over at him wishing that he'd open his eyes, but it was not to be. "There's nothing wrong with you. Every single one of us has the capacity to do the wrong thing. No one's all good and no one's all bad. In the end, it just comes down to our willingness to do the right thing and from where I stand you are willing to do that."

For a moment, she thought he'd fallen asleep again until he broke the ensuing quiet. "Thanks for the vote of confidence. Unexpected, really. You're way too easy to talk to—think I've said too much."

"Better to talk to someone than no one at all. We all need that sometimes."

Once again he didn't reply immediately, but she remained at her post beside him.

"Sorry, but could you leave me be for a while? I can hardly think straight."

"Oh, sure, of course—I understand," she said standing up.

"And could you turn off the light?" he asked wearily. "I promise I'll be way better company later on…I promise…"

His voice was beginning to sound a bit slurred, so she was quite sure he wasn't sending her away just to be brusque. Besides, it was still early in the morning. She decided to catch a few more hours of sleep before even beginning to think about breakfast. Jensen seemed not to have stirred in the least, but one could never be sure. It wasn't as if they'd said anything explicit to each other; she was largely unconcerned with whether the boy had overheard or not.

She found she fell back to sleep easily—an oddity in itself. She usually found it difficult to sleep especially when she was awoken prematurely. The hours flew by in the snap of a finger with no further incident. With a stretch and a yawn, she quickly went through her daily ritual before seeking out Malachi. He was no longer on the couch. Instead, she found him outside leaning on the balcony.

"Swift recovery?" Pan asked as she slid the door open to the outside.

He glanced back at her, "If you call a few hours swift, then sure."

She kept the door open to let in the light breeze, but joined the other at the railing. They enjoyed each other's silence before Malachi spoke.

"It's peaceful here. Very quiet for an apartment complex."

"A lot of retired people out here. That's why I picked this place. Hopefully that's a compliment," she finished with a side glance.

"Don't worry—it is. It's been a while since I've woken to not having Bra straddling me and asking to be 'entertained' in some way. Maybe that was TMI come to think of it."

Pan laughed at this; she was just crass enough to find the image he'd created in her mind to be entertaining. It wasn't as if Bra hadn't told her about her exploits in full details prior to meeting Malachi. She could be quite wild and uncensored when she wanted to behind closed doors.

"I'm not surprised," she said with a giggle. "But could it be? The great Malachi who can make women's panties drop on a dime with a mere glance is not all that interested in that kind of thing? Scandalous."

"It's just a façade. Haven't you heard? Sex sells. If I'm being totally honest, I've never been interested in it."

"Never?" Pan asked not sure if she heard right.

"Never," he repeated. "Over the years, it's become easier and easier to fake."

"Malachi, are you…?" For some reason, she couldn't say the word out loud: _asexual_.

"But I still want to have a connection with someone. Being alone…is something I cannot stand."

Still she could not speak as her mind tried to decipher everything and she met his statement with a contemplative silence.

"What about you, Pan?" Malachi continued. "What is a lovely woman like you who's both caring and incredibly understanding doing by herself?" he asked glancing over at her.

It was as if he knew already. Did it even need to be said out loud? Maybe that was why he was telling her so much. "Every time I've dated other guys it always ends the same. Seems men aren't willing to stay with someone past the third or fourth date if they're not putting out. Until now, I…thought all men were like that and I decided to simply let it be. Better to be alone and happy than with someone and miserable. I feel the most comfortable talking to guys who are already in a relationship so that I don't have to worry about any advances sexually—we can just be friends. It's a nice substitute to what I really want. I don't want to sound snobbish, but when it's a guy who's single, nine times out of ten they don't want to be just 'friends' and I get roped into dating again knowing it will end just like all the other times."

"I can believe that. Men can be quite insatiable whether in a relationship or not. With someone like you, I bet you have no shortage of interested parties."

"Geez, will you stop complimenting me? I hate blushing all the time."

Pan found him looking at her and he grinned back. "That just makes it all the more amusing."

"Are you…trying to come on to me," she said suddenly, "You're just telling me things I want to hear—are you _that_ kind of person? What are even the odds that you of all people are really…like that? What about Lilith?"

"Everyone seems to know about Lilith," he replied rolling his eyes and then turning back to the scenery. "You know that look that people get—the look that tells you that there's only one way you can satisfy them? That's the look she was giving me that night. I was desperate enough to appease her because I didn't want her to look at me differently. I thought if I did that one thing for her we could move past it and continue as we were. As you can see, it didn't end up like that."

"Wow," Pan said after a moment, "You really don't want to be alone. Is it really that bad? Look at me—I'm totally fine with it."

"Are you? Or have you just convinced yourself of that? Would it not be nice if we could continue on like this together getting to know one another more and more, but in a slow, unhurried way without all that tension, without trying to put on some kind of performance all the time?"

Her eyes became distant as she thought of such a thing with a person she didn't think could possibly exist. She could hold hands with such a person and follow them for the rest of her life. That was a fantasy. That had always been a fantasy. If she was ever to be in a relationship, she would have to settle and bite the bullet.

"I'll have to be fine with it," she said quietly. "Are you not miserable as you are now? Are you fine with committing to someone who might not ever understand you?"

"It's already too late—I've made my decision," he said as he moved away from the railings. He made his way to the open doorway, "Besides, I wasn't looking for a soulmate—my goals were far less lofty. In the meantime, maybe we should start thinking about breakfast; I'm starving."

Pan watched the other leave and then sighed to herself. Never had she felt more alone than what she did at that moment. Maybe she should just follow his example and bite the bullet as well. It wouldn't be such a bad thing. Her father could stop worrying about her. Her mother could stop trying to set her up with everyone. But the thought of forcing herself to do the one thing she cared nothing about always stopped such thoughts in their tracks.

Breakfast. Let's just worry about that for now. She knew her mood would brighten once again whether she wanted it to or not; it was her one gift. Nothing could keep her down for long. Not her loneliness and certainly not her inability to woo the one man who saw her for what she was and had not tried to change her.

* * *

 **AN:** Another long one, I know, but I was inspired. Just sneaking in a bit of drama.

 **WildHeart44:** Bra is a bit in "mother" mode since she really likes the person she's with at the moment, more than anyone she's dated before. Let's see how long _that_ lasts. Not much is happening with Bulma and Vegeta, but I'll get back to them soon. I will say that Vegeta isn't exactly the kind of person to dwell on that kind of thing or announce it and Bulma wasn't there when it happened.


	44. Seeds of Despair

**Pan whipped up quite the breakfast knowing how much she could eat and perhaps Malachi had a bit of an appetite as well.** It took her much longer than usual to get things ready, but she was proud of her work once she finished and set out three plates with piping hot food. Her guests were quite thankful for it and the compliments she received was always a plus. It wasn't often she cooked for others—it was a nice change of pace.

She was already back to her happy self as she chattered at the table with Malachi and Jensen. She expected the child who always seemed to be in a good mood to help her out, but he seemed quiet and pensive that morning. She gave Malachi a look who merely shrugged silently at her. For a human, Malachi managed to down quite a bit of food; he hadn't been lying when he said he was starving. If anything, it brought a smile to her face. Malachi liking her food was somehow the greatest compliment in the world. Sure, when it came down to it, he was simply an entertainer and probably didn't know too much about food, but the fangirl in her could care less about this.

After everyone was finished and the dishes were put away, Pan wasted no time continuing where they left off and Malachi seemed just as attentive as he had been yesterday. Jensen was once again made to watch from the sidelines. She felt for Malachi's energy to determine his condition. The mysterious headache from earlier that day was nowhere to be found and he looked to have recovered a good amount of energy that was lost yesterday—he was in decent condition as far as Pan was concerned. Good. She would have hated to be forced to go easy on him. Fighting became more of a chore when that was the case and she wanted to enjoy it just as much as she knew Malachi would.

He told her that this was it—he would reach a new level because he could "picture it in his mind". He seemed so confident in it that she felt she had no other choice but to believe him. The fighting began in earnest and Malachi was in rare form. She had to stay on her toes as Malachi was determined to stay on the offensive for as long as possible. He moved smoothly into each attack each one coming quicker than the last. He was catching his stride and so was she.

She'd barely told him what the plan was this time before they were exchanging fists. She had no idea when it was the time to back off and allow the other to power up. Instead, she felt his power increasing steadily. She need not have been worried as Malachi pushed her off with the strength of his own aura. A burst of smoke-like ki clouded her vision and forced her away from him. He seemed to be shrouded in a raging mist of energy. She could hardly see what was happening, but she could feel as his ki skyrocketed once again and she could hear his yells cutting through the skies.

She was witness to something she'd never seen before—history in the making. Silver electricity sparked around his aura as all became quiet. Had he done it? He hadn't fallen to his knees in weakness at the very least. Her eyes strained to see the person within the shroud, but eventually the strong breeze took care of the obscurities. There before her stood Malachi though much changed. His hair was starkly white, though the spikiness associated with ascension was subtle at best and more apparent only in the back. His once dark eyes flashed menacingly in its bright golden hue.

"Malachi!" she shouted excitedly, "You did it! You actually did it! I can't believe it!" She stopped herself from flailing like a fangirl for too long right before she noticed that the other didn't share her enthusiasm. "What's wrong?"

He moved into his fighting stance as if he wasn't paying attention to her words at all. "Die," he stated singularly with an odd calmness.

Pan could barely register what was happening before he started attacking her again with far more force than before. His strength and speed seemed to have tripled as she tried to accommodate defensively. It wasn't long before she too was forced to power up to her next form. It took her a mere few moments to do so, but in that time Malachi had gotten off several ki blasts that she had only seconds to evade. The intensity of their spar went up twofold.

Both were able to get clean shots at one another as they began to take hits; neither were backing down. She felt immediately that there was something different about this fight aside from the level they were fighting at. It didn't become apparent just what this was until she found herself deflecting attacks that could have seriously injured her. Several times he'd gone for her neck and aimed his ki blasts at her vital organs.

"Malachi!" Pan shouted when she was given a brief respite after throwing a considerably large ki blast his way. He'd deflected it easily. "What the Hell do you think you're doing?"

He merely moved back into his fighting stance. His eyes seemed alight with anticipation.

"Answer me, damn it! This is supposed to be a spar, you know."

"You will die," he stated singularly in the same calmness from before as if it were a fact.

"What are you—"

She couldn't finish her question before she was trading blows with him once again. There had been something missing in those eyes. Comprehension? Decency? She couldn't be sure. He was relentless perhaps in the same way he'd always been only now he could last for longer. She took a few body shots before dishing out a few of her own, but she'd enhanced her's a bit with ki so that the other could really feel the effects. Malachi reeled back from the sudden change in strength and he spat out blood as a result.

"Sorry," Pan said levitating before him. "But you don't seem to be listening to me. Now tell me what's wrong?"

Malachi regained his composure as he wiped blood from his mouth. "That one felt especially vicious. I like it." He sounded like himself now—the calmness was gone from his voice much to Pan's relief.

"There's more where that came from if you don't quit it," Pan said with a frown.

He was grinning now. "Fight me like your life depends on it."

"Why are you acting like this?" Pan asked with frustration.

"You're asking a lot of questions. Quit stalling."

"I'll give you the fight of your life if you just answer me, Malachi."

He finally straightened when she said this and crossed his arms. "Ask your questions."

"You're still Malachi, right?" Pan asked uncertainly.

There was frustration in his eyes now. "Is that a serious question? No, actually my name is Rumpelstiltskin and you'll soon have to hand over your first born if you keep asking me stupid questions," he quipped.

Pan was so caught off guard by this that she was momentarily speechless.

"Well?" Malachi asked. "Anything else?"

"You must be—I guess you're back to normal," Pan said studying the other. Admittedly, she didn't know him well enough to tell if this was 'normal', but he seemed all over the place at this moment. "This is just a spar, alright? No killing each other."

"I wasn't planning on it," he said back steadily.

"What about the whole 'you will die' thing?" she asked.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he said as if she was completely off base.

"You don't remember?" Pan said slowly. "Just a few minutes ago…" She noticed the other tapping his fingers impatiently against his arm. "Fine," she said giving up, "I don't feel like arguing. We'll get to the bottom of it later."

"Alright, Person-who-will-give-me-the-fight-of-my-life, you better not be bluffing!" he shouted pointing at her now.

She wondered if she should be taking him seriously, but something about him actually pointing at her and shouting seemed utterly ridiculous. "The name's Pan," she reminded the other, "Let's hope you're as ready as you say you are."

Pan suddenly didn't want to talk anymore as he wasn't making the most sense, but at the very least, he could fight. From the moment she struck out her fist and completely missed him, she knew that this wouldn't be an easy one. She received a hefty blow to the side of her face, but she gritted her teeth and bore it—he was moving faster.

"Damn it," she spat under her breath.

Her aura raged around her as she retaliated with her own attacks, but she wasn't nearly as successful as she thought she'd be. He seemed to be reading her moves and reacting before she ever moved to execute them. It was difficult to break the pattern, but it was the only way to escape the loop she felt like she was in. She needed to break free of him for just a moment to upset his rhythm. She let energy burst from her to push him back a little ways. He was perfectly fine with barely a scratch on him. She, on the other hand, was wondering how best to approach him. The task of besting him was just beginning to feel a bit impossible.

"You look defeated already," Malachi commented with an amused grin. Her fists clenched a bit harder at this remark. "But don't worry—I will tear you apart and feed you to the teddy bears."

Pan's eyebrows furrowed in confusion at this, but a split second later she felt his fist ram into her chin from underneath before she ever saw it coming—it sent her spinning through the air, but it was soon followed up by a plethora of punches dished out simultaneously at every inch of her body. She cried out in frustration and struck back, but she was only met with air. Then just like that the attacks ceased.

"You bastard! That was a trick wasn't it?" Pan shouted. "Teddy bears? Really?" She stopped herself and looked around for him.

"And here I thought the image of soft, plush animals feeding on bloody body parts was sufficiently terrifying."

Pan felt his ki a few yards away and shot out a ki blast in response. It didn't seem to hit anything and the blast simply went off into the distance. "You're trying to distract me, aren't you?"

"On the contrary," Malachi said.

Her body immediately whipped towards where she heard his voice. Then she was presented with a white haired Malachi holding a massive disk of energy in his hands—her peripherals couldn't even see the ends of it.

She was almost too shocked to even say anything. "No killing, remember? What do you think you're doing with that?"

"Of course, no killing," he said with a grin in faux calming tones, "So long as you can deflect it. Otherwise…" He took his other hand and motioned his index finger sliding across his neck menacingly.

"What?" Pan said angrily.

But it was too late to argue because he had already launched it and it was coming straight for her. She moved out of the way as quick as possible only to be met with the same approaching disc of energy. Was it following her? She moved again and then again and at each turn the disc was still following her. She shot out further into the sky racing against its approach trying all kinds of patterns of movement to lose it's trail, but it seemed relentless. Her eyes searched for Malachi but he was already a tiny speck in the distance. How could he control it from so far away?

"Fine!" Pan said gritting her teeth.

She decided right then and there that she would deflect it. She stood her ground and held out her hand fearlessly. It was as if time slowed as it finally met flesh, but it didn't stop where she expected it to—it continued to move further into her and she shouted in horror. Why wasn't she deflecting it? It was as if the disc was ignoring all her efforts. She'd deflected plenty of ki blasts to know that something was seriously wrong. She didn't feel any pain, but it was slowly making its way through her—her eyes widened in terror. What if her nerves were being severed or something along those lines? What if she was in so much pain that her mind simply couldn't register?

Then, just like that, it sliced right through her and she stood gasping for air—her mind completely in shock. It was Malachi's laughter that brought her back. Her eyes dizzily looked up to him.

"You look like you've just been chopped in half," he said barely able to say the words with all his laughter—it wasn't maniacal, he genuinely seemed entertained by her display.

"Malachi—how could you—?"

"Geez, loosen up—I barely put any energy into that one. It was mostly just made up of air with some energy to make it look flashy. The look on your face was priceless—this one too," he finished as she glared at him with the angriest look she could muster.

"You're not even taking this seriously!" Pan growled.

She shot through the air towards him without waiting for the other's reply and began attacking with vicious intent. If only she could get to his nose and shatter it completely— _that_ would make her feel better. She hated that she was still missing him with startling regularity. How fast had he become?

"So much passion behind those fists—beautiful."

"Don't mock me," Pan shouted angrily.

Malachi was right in front of her and for some reason she simply could not land a hit as he kept sidestepping and moving back. Pan steadily moved forward to keep up step with him—he was _not_ going to get away again and pull off something stupid.

"Are we practicing a new dance routine or are we fighting?" he said teasingly.

"How 'bout you stand still and let me hit you, coward?" Pan challenged.

"I would, but this is far more entertaining. The angrier you get, the sloppier you get."

Then he disappeared from her field of vision. She whipped her hand behind herself and shot off a ki blast at blinding speeds, but she might as well have been shooting at the stars. He was nowhere to be found. Her peripherals alerted her of movement elsewhere, but when she looked up, she found herself surrounded by several Malachi's all with an amused expression and crossed arms. It did little stave her anger. She knew he was using it against her, but it was hard to contain herself. Calming herself was not as easy as flicking a switch.

"I was thinking of making a song," one of them said. Pan shot a ki blast towards that one without a second thought and this Malachi vanished, but was quickly replaced—she gritted her teeth.

"A super annoying one that all the kids will love."

Pan shot down another one, but this one was replaced just as quickly.

"A song that would wound up on almost every radio station because it's genre is just ambiguous enough to fit in so many different places."

Pan shot the one who was talking once again plus another, but nothing changed. She remained surrounded.

"One that's undeniably catchy with lyrics so simple that it's easy to catch on and get stuck in your head."

"Ugh! Will you shut up about—"

"Maybe it'll be an extra-long song—10 minutes of pure agony. It would be a song so family friendly and widespread that it will never die and keep coming back over and over again. I shall name it 'Happy'."

Tiring of this, she swept her palms around her and completely decimated anyone around her. They were all clones of Malachi much to her surprise. Just when she looked up—a ki blast crashed into her face and she was sent reeling for a good few yards before she caught herself.

"That sounds like a horrible idea," Pan finally responded to him, "And why the hell are you talking about this shit in the middle of a fight?" she said with a frown.

"Well, you know, it's been a while since my last album—just bouncing ideas off of you."

He stood in front of her now, back in his fighting stance clearly ready for more.

"Go bounce it off someone else. I don't have the time," Pan snapped.

"Shame—I was just getting started," he said as his grin widened.

Hand to hand combat ramped up once again as they started trading blows. She was just now managing to calm herself and she was finding it easier to focus on what his next moves might be.

"Is it time for a change?" Malachi asked as he moved far back from her so that she would strike the air. "Should my music evolve or stay the same? How much change is too much?"

Pan launched a larger ki blast and Malachi easily evaded it

"Switching genres?"

She created an even larger ki blast and sent his way in which he easily dodged.

"Deeper themes?"

Pan launched three large ki blasts almost simultaneously and Malachi practically danced around them. "Enough!" Pan shouted vehemently. "I'm going to wipe that smile right off of your face!"

She shot towards him again and planned on striking him at least a few times, but he continued to evade to his heart's content. He didn't seem to even be fighting her seriously anymore and Pan wasn't sure what to make of him. If she could just get in a decent hit, perhaps he'd start to defend himself once again. He seemed to have thrown himself wholeheartedly into evasion and nothing else. He put more distance between them after a while. Perhaps there was a limit to how long he could keep up such shenanigans.

"In the end," Malachi began in pleasant tones, "I guess it doesn't matter—whatever comes next, my faithful, diehard fans will buy it regardless. I could get away with it once, but not twice. Even _their_ patience has its limits."

"Listen, Malachi," Pan said as she formed another blast in her hands, "I would listen to anything you put out so long as you put actual effort into making it no matter if it's different from anything you've ever done before. Now can we get back to this fight already?"

Clearly, Malachi didn't think she would respond directly to whatever he was talking about and Pan took advantage of his initial surprise. All she needed was a second. She closed the distance between them so fast that she was sure the other could do nothing in retaliation as she unleashed her ki blasts and dished out as many physical attacks as possible before he moved back from her. She knew she'd struck him several times and she felt relieved she had done so. Her fists had been itching to hit something.

He didn't waste any time talking this time as he engaged her again soon after. Finally. He was taking things seriously. She decided that they were both basically at the same level as the fight continued without either backing down. For quite some time, Pan found herself in the throes of sweet combat—hand to hand, plain and simple. He wasn't trying to cause mischief anymore and for that she was thankful. They fell into a bit of a rhythm. Pan couldn't rightfully say who was connecting the most hits. It was too equally matched to tell.

Malachi pulled away first out of the clear blue much to her irritation, but she supposed it was time for a brief respite after almost half an hour of nonstop trading of attacks. They'd moved about quite a bit around the area and they were far away from where they'd initially started. Pan was just beginning to breath hard and she looked towards the other to see if he was on the same wavelength. She couldn't see at first, his head was bowed and his hand hovered over it. Had she'd struck him there—she couldn't be sure. She noticed his fingers trembling and that he hadn't said a word this whole time.

"Hey, are you—

She stopped in surprise when he looked up and she could see him clearly. Profuse blood stained his face, fresh and wet. It ran down from his nose, and past his mouth. There was far too much, enough to cause a few drops to fall from his chin.

"Oh my gawd—Malachi…" Pan said as she instinctively moved towards him.

He straightened when he seemed to register her closing in on him and he pushed her back easily as he pushed forth his near invisible aura. His aura gleamed only because of the sunlight otherwise it looked to be clear and undetectable to the naked eye. He cried out as he powered up to what Pan assumed was his maximum limit.

"I will destroy you!" Malachi bellowed before a heavy rain of ki blasts fell on her from the skies.

The blasts seemed to come out of nowhere and Pan was forced to dodge them. She tried to move towards Malachi, but he was nowhere to be seen. _I better end this fast—Malachi doesn't look well._ Pan wasn't sure if the peculiarities she'd seen from him this day could be blamed on the transformation itself or the clear pre-existing condition that was still plaguing him. He also seemed more serious once again about doing more than just winning the duel and waned to take her life as well. Pan wasn't scared of this fact, but it was disconcerting nonetheless.

Malachi was hiding his ki signature making it difficult to keep track of him. She imagined he would wound up behind her and tapping her should as if he was so clever. This time she'd be ready for him. She closed her eyes and then finally twirled around to punch the imaginary person behind her. She didn't expect to hit anything other than air, she was guessing after all, but to her surprise she struck Malachi straight across the face and threw him sideways. He recovered quickly though not bothering to wipe away the blood produced from this attack. There was simply too much to wipe away in the first place.

"Lucky hit!" Malachi spat. "I won't let you get away with it, you little worthless waste of space."

His voice was rougher and it reverberated a deep anger. Why was he so vehement all of sudden? Was it something she'd done recently? He was breathing hard, much harder than she was. She didn't want to keep attacking him just in case she might irreparably damage him. She knew there was something wrong when she got a good look at his eyes—they seemed wide and unfocused. What she needed right now was to decapacitate him. Pan took a deep breath and braced herself for his attacks, she was intending to evade all of them.

It was easier said than done avoiding all his attempts at striking her. He was aiming for her neck and chest for the most part—all the places that would prove to be fatal if he landed something strong enough to cut through skin. Judging from all the wind she was feeling from each evasion, she knew this was the case. She tried to move back from him and try to strike him from behind, but he was relentless and didn't allow her a moment to breathe.

She decided to fall back on her ki blasts. Barely finding the time to launch them she shot upwards and launched them from above but he was already moving around them. Now that she knew what she wanted to do next, his persistence was beginning to annoy her. He was able to get one punch into her stomach. Though he'd been aiming a little higher, she'd moved away just in time. She gritted her teeth and sidestepped his next attacks. Then she found an opening. Her timing had to be perfect and her technique precise. She sliced downward onto the back of his neck, but it was not to be. She'd allowed herself to think for a second too long. It would be impossible, she realized, if she did not know where to hit, the moment she had an opening. She knew now, but she wondered if an opening would ever come again. Did he know her intentions?

He growled at her in an animalistic way indicating just how far gone he was. The look in his eyes had not changed as he went after her relentlessly. Could he even speak anymore? Pan could hardly spend the brainpower thinking of some alternative way to deal with him—she had to focus on his attacks since he was beginning to connect more and more of them. She couldn't let him best her and she couldn't allow Bra to see him like this. Bra had entrusted his wellbeing to her; she didn't want to let her best friend down.

She realized after a moment, that blood was getting everywhere. Some had splattered onto her clothes and what was pooling down from his nose still seemed fresh. Was he bleeding out? _Think of something quick or else…_ Pan's mind shouted frantically at her trying to concoct some brilliant plan, but it wouldn't come. His movements were becoming so erratic that she could hardly follow them let alone find an opening.

She pulled away from him once again knowing that such maneuvers were useless against an opponent who followed her relentlessly. This time, however, she was not greeted with more frenzied barrages of physical attacks. Instead, the air was still in front of her. She saw Malachi bloodied and manic gazing at her listlessly, breathing loudly.

"We can stop now," Pan said quietly, "We should call it quits."

Pan couldn't be completely sure, but she thought she saw some acknowledgement in his gaze—a subtle nod perhaps? His eyes rolled back and suddenly he was falling rapidly. His hair began darkening. Pan watched for only a moment before zipping down below him to catch him before he made a fatal landing, crushed by the force of gravity and momentum.

Pan couldn't bear to look down at him so she decided not to as she glided down to where they'd first began their duel and where Jensen must be. When she touched down, she could already hear running feet. She looked towards him expectantly. If there was one thing she could count on from Jensen, it was his concern for his father.

"Daddy—is he—"

"He's still breathing," Pan reassured the other. "C'mon, let's head back."

* * *

 **Pan paced the length of her living room for what felt like the millionth time that afternoon as she spoke on the phone with Bra.**

"No, I wouldn't worry too much right now. He just—Let him rest for a while and I'll let you know if anything happens."

"I felt something terrible in the middle of my chest—I knew there was something wrong. _I_ know that he'll need more than rest right now. This is what I'm talking about right here. This is why I didn't want him doing all this…extraneous activities. He's not built for this kind of thing. He's pushing himself too hard."

"We don't know that—

"We don't know that?" Bra shouted over the phone, "Oh, and now you're an expert in all things fighting now? Just because you spend all your time training yourself to death doesn't make it anymore safe to do—he's only human."

"I know," Pan said in calming tones, "So we don't know everything about this transformation of his, what it might be or might not be doing to him. That's why we're doing this. There's no book we can just pick up and research, we have to figure things out as we go."

"Don't try to reason this out like this isn't complete madness. We don't _need_ to do any of this. All of this is completely optional. I'm coming over with my mom, alright, and that's end of the story."

"Alright," Pan said backing off. "But I still think you're overreacting. He'll be fine."

"I can't believe you just said that. I told you to look out for him and now he's barely hanging onto life."

"He's not a child," Pan said back finally losing her cool, "I can only look out for him only so much as he allows it. And the things that he wants—I can't baby him with goals like that. He wants to become stronger and reach his highest potential. I'm sorry Bra, but there's no 'safe' way to do that."

"You don't care, do you? You just don't care about me. I guess you haven't loved someone like I love Malachi, but trust me, when you do, it will be a powerful feeling and you wouldn't be so willing to let him keep hurting himself."

"Maybe I would," Pan said quietly, "If I knew it was what he wanted."

" _He_ doesn't always know what's good for him. I didn't call you for relationship advice anyway, Pan. I just knew something was wrong. Why would you keep that from me?"

"Because," her voice cracked a little, "I…didn't want you to be mad at me. I had no idea any of this would happen and I was hoping the situation would just fix itself. I swear I would have called you by tonight if things turned for the worst."

"I never stay mad at you for long," Bra said, "But I swear if you do anything like this again, I'll cut you off completely. If I can't trust you, then we can't be friends."

"A little extreme, don't you think?" Pan said with a frown, "Like you haven't lied to me about a good number of things. I remember that time you lied to me about a boy liking me just so you could have him for yourself."

"You're never going to stop bringing that up, are you?"

"And you're never going to stop conveniently forgetting that either, are you? If that wasn't a 'pussy' block, I don't know what is."

"Please, Pan, I was saving him the disappointment of dating you. We all know you don't like to give up the goods. What man would want to stay with a woman like that?—I keep telling you that and you keep ignoring me. Now look where that's gotten you."

Pan breathed sharply at this. "I can't believe you just said that. You really think that's the only way to keep a guy? What about personality, good conversation, decent looks?"

"That's all secondary, honey," Bra said, "You know that. If you ain't no good in bed, no one's going to give you the time of day. The ones who say they do are lying and desperate."

"You think you got everything down pat, don't you? Men only think about one thing and you're a pro at it."

"Yes, Pan, it's that simple. You just keep trying to complicate things."

"And that worked with Malachi too? You pleasured him and he just went head over heels for you?" Pan asked stonily.

"Well, no," Bra replied with the first hint of hesitation since the phone call had begun. "Malachi was…different. He was really gentlemanly—that's when I knew he was the one. He just wanted to get to know me. He seemed so _interested_ in me like no man before him. He had some sense, you know. He could think with his head and not always with his penis. You get guys like that sometimes, but don't be fooled by that façade. Guys do that 'cus they know girls like the attention. We all know what the end goal is, right?"

"So when did it happen? First, second date?" Pan asked.

"He was clearly just playing coy—guys do that too, you know. We went out on a lot of dates before it happened, come to think of it. It wasn't until after a year actually."

"That's quite a long time, don't you think? Especially for you," Pan replied with a grin on her lips. This was one of those rare moments when she knew something that Bra didn't about guys or at least this particular one and she had no intentions of disclosing such information. This would be her little secret.

"It was, but Malachi's different. He kept it interesting. We did so many things together. It helped me cope," she finished with a laugh, "I'm afraid I was a bit 'deprived' by the time anything like sex happened and I might have been too rough on him. That's why he went to the hospital because of it. Oh my gawd," Bra finished as realization seemed to come over her. "This is all my fault."

"What are you going on about?" Pan asked with clear irritation in her tone.

"If I hadn't been so rough with him on that night, he would never have felt the need to train with Dad to become stronger…and now all this."

"That didn't cause Laputa to decide to take him over," Pan reminded her.

"How do you know? Maybe if he'd been weaker, Laputa would have completely ignored him."

"And who would Laputa have settled on instead? Your brother? Your father? He would have found _someone_ and would it have been any better possessing someone else versus your boyfriend? I bet we'd still be in this same exact situation if not worse. Trust me, Bra, the world doesn't revolve around you no matter how much you really want it to."

"That's what you think," Bra said in her playful haughty tone. "I'm on my way right now, alright. We're taking Mom's flying pod so it'll take a little over an hour."

"Okay, I'll be waiting for you. Try not to worry so much. I know he's only human, but he seems really tough. I don't think this would be the thing to do him. He's breathing normally and the bleeding has stopped—it stopped as soon as he fainted."

"The fainting part—that makes me feel so much more better," Bra said sardonically.

"Fainting doesn't mean sudden death."

"But it does mean something's wrong and that maybe he's in pain."

"Yeah? So does a bloody menstrual pad."

"You just have no filter, do you?"

"Nope—and that's why you still love me."

"Speak for yourself."

"See you soon, Bra," Pan said noticing her dismissive tones.

"And you too. Try not to mess up anything else before we get there."

Bra ended her call before Pan could end hers much to her annoyance—she always did things like that. Who did she think she was? "Try not to mess up anything"—what was that supposed to mean? It wasn't as if Bra hadn't totaled her car twice in her extremely boy-crazy days also known as high school. She wondered how Malachi could stay with someone who was a borderline nymphomaniac. How could he satisfy her to any kind of degree? They said opposites attract, but this was ridiculous. She never wanted to wish ill on a relationship, but Pan could see self-destruction in the near future if they couldn't find a way to converge their differing wavelengths.


	45. Inspecting a Tiny Piece of Cardboard

**Vegeta found himself inspecting a jigsaw puzzle piece, noting its form and size.** It was barely larger than his finger as were all the other pieces to this particular puzzle; a thousand pieces in all. The chances of this fitting in the pieces that were already attached were low at best. It was the wrong color, wrong shape. In the end, he placed it back down. He was rushing, being too impatient and hoping that the next piece might fit by simply trying it out. In other words, he was brute forcing his way through it—he always started puzzles that way. He'd change tactics midway through tiring of all the misses. He knew, like most things in life, that it was better to have a plan. It always felt like things took longer, but by taking the time to set things up just right, the actual activity became more doable. Right now, the task of completing such a large puzzle seemed monumental. It would certainly take far longer than a week. He knew, however, that he was capable of finishing it in a day. Luckily, he had a day to kill.

With Malachi and Jensen gone, the place seemed a lot quieter. He'd heard from Bra that he was seeking out Pan's advice about what he'd seen in their last fight; his apparent ascension. Why he hadn't bothered with asking for his advice was beyond him and he refused to be bothered by it. But on that topic, how would Pan be able to help him any better than he who had probably seen far more in his life than a woman who'd spent much of her life living in peace? Did he not value his opinion? Then again, they'd not spoken much after that fateful duel. Vegeta couldn't help but think that he was purposefully avoiding him. Usually, he wouldn't assume such things over a few coincidences of his absence whenever he was present, but he wouldn't put it past someone like Malachi.

His thoughts returned to the puzzle. Vegeta first had to calm his usual impatient nature and focus on a more practical strategy. It was more advantageous to ignore his ultimate goal—to complete the puzzle—and put all his energy into making sure the steps leading up to this were done right. Creating a strategy was one thing. Executing it correctly was another. All of this was easier said than done. The puzzle was staring right at him, almost begging him to find some other piece that would fit in the next open spaces. In fact, he had to close his eyes for a moment as he readjusted his focus.

Firstly, he had to be able to see each piece clearly. There was enough room on the table to accommodate for this. Painstakingly, he spread out every loose piece of the puzzle and turned over each one that was upside down. When he was done, his eyes were able to pass over all the pieces that would eventually fit within the border he'd already created with the edge pieces—the ones in which one side was without holes. There were exactly four pieces that had two straight sides and they were the easiest to find because of this fact. The jigsaw puzzle was a picture of a tiger surrounded by green foliage. In total, the picture was composed of four different distinct colors and the green had a few different shades depending on where the shadows fell. It would be a bit too much to decide just how many shades there were, but he could easily group the green pieces into lighter and darker and go from there. By color, he grouped the loose pieces sliding them closer to other similar colors. From there, he could easily inspect and focus on the pieces that would go into each spot. Instead of having to search for every black piece betwixt the oranges ones, they were all separate.

All of this cut down significantly on the time it took to try a different piece. He was able to move a bit quicker. In fact, he'd already found two more pieces that fit perfectly. It was always a nice feeling when he chose the right one when the small cardboard piece simply fell into place with minimal effort on his part. With each fitting piece, he knew he was getting closer to his goal. His frustration from before vanished as it became easier to see where things went. That was what plans were meant to do—they always gave him peace of mind in the end. Worrying was far more tiresome and an altogether unpleasant sensation.

He liked it better when there was nothing to worry about and he supposed most everyone else would agree with this sentiment. Vegeta always tried his hardest to achieve that state of complete peace of mind, but it was always just out of reach and his own nature often worked against him. Many things could easily tick him off no matter how much he told himself to let things go. He wasn't so sure he'd gotten much better on this front. For now, he was calmly doing a puzzle. It wasn't exactly his own puzzle. He'd seen Jensen working on it, but it was out in the open for anyone to work on, it being in the living room. Instead of turning on the television, he'd found himself doing this instead. Hopefully Jensen wouldn't mind too much if he found the entire thing completed. The kid had enough jigsaw puzzles to last him for years. Bulma kept buying them for him and she'd only done this because Jensen seemed interested in Malachi's collection of jigsaw puzzles.

At this point, he could care less if someone saw him doing this. The only one left in the house who wasn't otherwise occupied was Bunny and she didn't care very much about such things. If it wasn't related to cooking and other housewife activities, she was usually unconcerned. The woman used to be an enigma, but Vegeta was certain that he knew her habits. She was harmless and only eerie in the fact that she fulfilled her role almost too well. She played her role so perfectly that at times she didn't really seem like a real person.

Hours went by as he finished over half of the puzzle. He wished life could fit together like this. He wished there was a solution to every problem and that such solutions were guaranteed to be found if only the pieces were placed in exactly the right way. Laputa, however, could hardly be likened to a puzzle, so rigid and readily solvable. Laputa was a puzzle in which there were pieces that were forever lost—the full picture could never be seen, not even in pieces, not even from the creator himself.

From what he knew about Laputa, which was very little, how could he describe him? What characteristics defined him? What goals did he have and how did he intend to achieve them? Did it even matter when these goals were achieved? What was he feeling right now? What was he _doing_ right now? All he could do was pinpoint all the pieces he did have and turn each of them over so that they could all be visible.

Laputa was an ancient alien from another planet that was likely in another galaxy altogether. He probably hailed from somewhere that was unimaginably far away from Earth or even Planet Vegeta. At some point, destruction became a mantra in which he decided to live by. This probably wasn't something that came naturally. Some pivotal event must have occurred that changed the course of his life forever. He suspected it had something to do with the destruction of his home planet. Something like that would have been quite traumatizing—Vegeta knew this. While the destruction of Vegeta's own home planet hadn't been too difficult to accept at first, as the years went by, slowly the despondency he should have felt before developed somewhere in the back of his mind. The more stability he attained in his own life, the more his past began to trouble him. It was easier to absorb things in hindsight and much harder to convince himself that everything was "normal" when he wasn't in constant peril. But Laputa, in the way that he tried not to get his hands too dirty, didn't seem like the kind of person who lived his life chaotically. He seemed to have a plan and have some vague idea as to how it should be done. The destruction of his planet must have been immediately life-changing.

According to what Malachi had mentioned about Laputa, he spent many years by himself with only his own thoughts as company. Vegeta knew, also from experience, that being alone after such a tragic event was toxic to one's sanity. He could have easily lost his mind out there in space for so long. If Laputa's mind was anything like a human, then he was sure that this was the case. Perhaps his mind had twisted what was painful into something that gave him joy. Maybe by the time he laid eyes on another living person, he was already murderous and sought destruction. Once he succeeded in fulfilling this horrible deed, he must have derived pleasure from this. By the time he got to Earth, he was set in his ways and no one could change that about him.

There was something about Malachi as well. He said that they aligned perfectly and that they were kindred spirits. He'd not forgotten Dende's warning about Malachi. Vegeta assumed that this was what had made him such a good host for Laputa. Malachi knew everything about Laputa—that was what he had stated when Bulma had been running tests on him all those months ago. Surely the opposite was true as well. Laputa knew everything about Malachi. At one point, the fusion was completed and it remained that way for quite some time, all the way up to the moment Bulma was forced to separate them by injecting a solution—the entire ordeal had almost killed him. In fact, he was still dealing with the side effects and Bulma had told him a few days ago that his condition was not improving as far as those migraines were concerned. He was still in danger and he knew it, yet he pretended not to be as was his way. It was an admirable trait, but Vegeta wondered if he wasn't just making things worse.

It had not been lost on Vegeta that Laputa still wanted Malachi as a host. He hadn't simply taken him over. Vegeta was sure that if it was possible, he'd already have done it, but clearly it wasn't. By evidence he'd seen, it was clear that Malachi must have some protection from Laputa in the same way a person was immune from catching the chicken pox again after they'd experienced it the first time. It seemed Laputa needed his conscious permission or to break down his mental defenses if that kidnapping was any indication. Laputa had not been focused on physically maiming or harming him other than starving him. He made sure the other was hydrated so that he wouldn't actually die. He still wanted his vessel intact.

One thing was clear to Vegeta, Laputa wanted Malachi enough to postpone his own plans on destroying Earth. That was the only thing that they had that he wanted. There was a very obvious plan that could be formed from such information, but no one would like to hear it—especially not Bra. They weren't going to find Laputa if he didn't want to be found and Laputa only came out of hiding if it benefited him in some way. Malachi freely giving in to Laputa would most certainly bring him out of hiding. Was there a trap that could work on Laputa or would he see it a mile away? Vegeta didn't like setting up traps if he didn't know enough about his opponent and if the entire plan was banking on Laputa falling for one of these things, then he felt even less confident about it. Would Laputa come if it seemed too obviously like a trap? If they had Malachi sitting in a small room with only one entrance, was it doomed to fail? It was very likely.

Maybe if Malachi himself could control those traps, but then that would be giving him more to do. Not only would he have to keep an eye out for Laputa's approach, he had to precisely time when the trap should be activated. Perhaps giving him more control would put him more at ease. Would it be better to have more than one person able to activate the trap? One outside person and Malachi himself. If they had an agreed upon moment in which to set things in motion—that would double their chances of success instead of hindering them. There was one issue, however. Was there a way to give Malachi control over the trap and not make it obvious that he did? If there was some button involved, how could Malachi look convincing enough to the conniving creature? Perhaps it was better to avoid the situation altogether. Maybe they had tiny, undetectable cameras installed and there was some agreed upon sign that Malachi could give—something subtle that would be hard for someone else to catch onto if they didn't know it. That was a detail that could be discussed later.

He needed contingency plans as well. What would they do if the trap failed and Malachi is once again possessed by Laputa? There was already one known method of expelling the entity and Bulma was currently refining the solution. Before, they'd been rushed, but perhaps now the looming threat of death associated with this method was no longer a factor—Vegeta would have to ask what progress she'd made on that front. If there truly was a way to do this, then perhaps a fight didn't need to happen. A good dart filled with enough of the solution would do him in and they could have plenty of saltwater containers in place to kill him outright. Malachi couldn't be briefed on that part of the plan. In fact, it was better that he had no idea that there were contingency plans in the first place.

If the solution couldn't be delivered to him initially, then Vegeta had no problem stopping the other through other means. Malachi, whether he was possessed or not, seemed to revel in fighting. It would be nothing to convince the other to engage him in combat—he wouldn't give him a choice and he wouldn't let him escape. Vegeta had to hope that once Laputa possessed his long sought for vessel, he would throw all caution to the wind. If it was possible for him to leave his host on his own volition—something that Vegeta believed was impossible for Laputa—then they'd be back to square one, but that was a chance he was willing to take. He'd defeat Laputa this time—he wouldn't hold back as the stakes were too high. Vegeta would fight him like any other opponent, but stop short of killing him outright so that the solution could be administered. Perhaps Malachi wouldn't come out of it completely unscathed, but there was a good chance that he would survive and those were odds that Vegeta was sure Malachi would be fine with.

As Vegeta had been pondering on such things, he'd also been making progress with the puzzle and by now he was nearly finished. Everything was coming together just like he knew it would. He had only a few pieces left and then it would be complete. The last pieces were always the easiest. Being able to see the end made the entire endeavor almost redundant, but it had to be done. Yet he couldn't help but feel a bit apprehensive after his initial elation over his progress. It looked like there were enough pieces, but he couldn't be completely sure until they were physically in place. It wouldn't be until the end that he would know whether a piece had been missing the whole time or not.

Vegeta quickly placed the remaining pieces into the correct spaces only to find the one thing that would annoy him to no end—one last space, but nothing left to fill it with. That was always the most frustrating especially if it was only one piece. He could see the shape and imagine its color, but it simply wasn't there. Despite all his efforts, the puzzle could not be finished. From the moment he took interest in it, there had never been enough pieces in the first place. No matter what strategy he implored, it would always end like this.

He'd been so concentrated on the puzzle and his own thoughts that he didn't hear Bulma's approach. Despite this, he wasn't entirely surprised by her intrusion.

"It looks beautiful," Bulma commented. She was looking down at the vibrant picture of the tiger peeking out from the dense foliage. "Jensen was working on that for days then you come and finish it in record time like it's a cakewalk," she said with clear amusement in her tone.

"Well, maybe he shouldn't keep his little projects out in the open for others to get to."

"Oh, I'm sure he won't mind. He adores you, you know."

Vegeta hmphed at this. Bulma was always able to see the beauty in things yet his eyes kept returning to the empty spot. She hadn't even mentioned it.

"Still missing a piece," Vegeta said as he wanted Bulma to notice it as well.

"Hmm…" Bulma said as it apparently took her a moment to see it. "Oh, I see it now. It still looks nice, though. Anyone can tell what the last piece is and I can still see the full picture regardless."

"Seriously?" Vegeta said as he glanced over at Bulma, "You're totally fine with this?"

"If it bothers you so much, I could have my computer analyze the picture and print out an exact replica of the last piece. It wouldn't take very long."

"No, that's alright—it's not that serious. I think I can live with this." Somehow it didn't feel right going through all the trouble—the missing piece didn't stand out nearly as much now that he knew that it probably wasn't all that noticeable in the first place. He was willing to make do. He sat back on the couch he'd been sitting on and turned his attentions to Bulma. "You've been locked in your lab all day," he said.

"I have," Bulma said with a nod, "I'm really glad you didn't interrupt me this time."

"Yeah, well, I knew you must have been doing something important."

She walked around the couch then and sat down beside him. "I've developed a far better antidote should anyone become possessed by Laputa again." There was clear excitement in her eyes and it quickly put him at ease.

"Good," Vegeta replied. "I think I've come up with a fairly decent plan to put a stop to Laputa once and for all, but there's some details that still need to be discussed."

"Even better," Bulma said with a grin.

They spent a good portion of the evening plotting out Laputa's demise and just as Vegeta suspected, Bulma had a lot useful input. They were able to come up with a timeframe, decide on who should be involved, and what exactly the trap would be and how it would be utilized. Before they knew it, it was late into the night. Were it not for Vegeta not being harshly reminded of the fact that he'd neglected to eat anything all day as sharp hunger pangs began plaguing him, they might have been talking all night. Bulma hadn't eaten anything that day either. She'd started out early in the morning in her lab and she hadn't taken a break since then.

Malachi and Jensen hadn't come back—Vegeta didn't sense them nearby—and as he discovered long ago, it was best to leave Bra to her own devices if she hadn't already sought him out that day. As he briefly reached out to her, he noted that she was a bit stressed, but that was her usual state of mind these days especially if Malachi wasn't nearby. He hadn't heard Machi all day and when he reached out to her he found that she was quite content. One could never tell when that child would be a handful from day to day, but, for now, she seemed to be on her good behavior.

"Feeling adventurous today?" Bulma asked referring to where they might eat tonight.

"No," Vegeta said without hesitation. "That 'fusion' restaurant I went to was pretty disappointing."

"Well then, I know just the place," Bulma said.

That was all she needed to say for Vegeta to know what she was talking about. It was a buffet nearby that Vegeta found to be better than all the others he'd managed to find. It was a Brazilian grill that served all manner of grilled meats including some seafood along with vegetables, breads and an assortment of fruit. Bulma especially liked the grilled pineapple and vegetable. His mouth was watering just thinking about it. Luckily, it wasn't too late for the place to be open, but they would certainly be the last of the patrons that day.

It was a fitting end to a surprisingly productive day. Things were beginning to fall into place. Bulma already advocated his plan and her vote of confidence was something he treasured the most. There was always a chance that things could turn out horribly, but risks were inevitable and for the time being his worries were allayed.

/

 **AN:** A bit late, I know, but I was far too under the weather to get any writing done this weekend—I'm much better now. We interrupt this program with a bit of plotting and scheming by the ones who do it best. Also, I'm thinking about retconning some names to these chapters just so it's easier for me to look back on for continuity purposes. Initially, I didn't think the story would be this long, but I guess I should have known better. 'Til next time my readership.


	46. Acceptance

**The world around him was hazy as he struggled to open his eyes.** His mind was foggy and the more he tried to understand, the less things made sense.

"Daddy? Daddy! You're awake!" Jensen's voice said nearby.

It took a bit of effort to turn his head towards his voice and when he did, he could barely make him out.

"Not so loud, Jensen, he's resting," Pan said.

"But I saw him move," Jensen said back.

"Maybe because you're being too loud."

Malachi could see a bit clearer now as the two of them argued. "It's alright," he said to them.

A subtle ache in his head returned to him even as he spoke—it was a familiar sensation, but insidious all the same. He groaned when he lifted himself up despite everything.

"Malachi, I'm sorry," Pan said in quiet tones.

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion at her words. "What do you have to be sorry for?"

"You were bleeding so much—I should not have pushed you so hard. Bra will be here in a few along with her mom. They were really worried about you."

"Really?" Malachi said with a sigh, "I don't feel like dealing with them at the moment. Don't get me wrong; I appreciate their concern, but between Bulma's prodding and Bra's concern…"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to alarm them."

"It's not your fault—why are you apologizing? I'm just…having trouble remembering what's happened."

Her eyes looked sorrowful. It was clear she felt guilty, but Malachi wasn't completely sure of what. He was almost certain that the situation he found himself in was completely of his own making.

"What is the last thing you remember?" Pan asked.

Malachi closed his eyes and began focusing on his memories. Unlike before when he could at least see a few short moments in a confusing jumble, there was only a void with nothing to grasp onto. "I must have ascended. The last thing I remember was the moment right before when I was powering up, when I could see it happening in my mind. After that…" he shook his head.

"So the entire fight we had—you don't remember that at all?" Pan asked.

"Nothing," Malachi confirmed as he moved so that he was sitting on the side of the bed. "Care to enlighten me?"

"You acted differently in that form," Pan started slowly. "At first you were quite serious, and it was as if it was a battle to the death. Then you completely changed gears and fought as if the entire thing was a joke. It was just…hard to read you. I think you were aware of who you were, but mentally you were all over the place. I wasn't entirely certain if this was all part of some larger plan to best me or if there was something else going on. We could have continued on for longer had you not started bleeding from your nose—I think it was another headache. You seemed in pain and completely delirious. It was a lot of blood. Much more than what I'd seen earlier. You weren't even talking anymore like you had before. I tried to end things quickly, but then you just fainted probably from the sudden blood loss."

Almost unconsciously, he quickly slid a finger under his nose, but felt nothing out of the ordinary, nothing flaky or drying and nothing red and wet on his finger.

"Oh, I hope you don't mind," Pan said noticing his gesture, "I cleaned you up a little. I couldn't just leave you like that. Guess that's just my veterinarian side coming out. I didn't mean to intrude—"

"No, it's fine," Malachi said as he looked down at his dark shirt trying to determine if there were bloodstains. Finding one, he let his finger linger on the evidence—it would have been hard to see if he didn't know what to look for. "Thank you," he said looking back up at her. "I don't know too many people who'd be willing to put up with me like that. If anyone should be apologizing, it should be me. So much of this I still don't understand. I remember even less this time. If I can't even control myself or be fully conscious when I ascend, is there any point in continuing this?"

Pan sighed and then sat down beside him. Her eyes were so full of genuine concern and yet there was a fire there. "You can't just quit at the first sign of trouble. Even Saiyans don't get fully used to their transformation on their first or second try. In fact, it's an ongoing struggle to mentally stay balanced."

"It's not the same, I'm sure," Malachi said. "No one was fainting or having memory lapses. A part of me finds this whole thing fascinating. There's clearly more to learn and get used to. Another part of me thinks I should just quit while I'm still ahead. I mean, how many people have said that this thing that I'm doing is impossible? Maybe there's good reason for it and I should heed their warnings. What should I do?"

"Well, you don't seem like the cautious type," Pan said thoughtfully. "I think you already know the answer to that."

"I've only tried this thing twice," Malachi said as he looked up at the intruding light coming from the window a few yards in front of him. The sun was just peeking from behind a cluster of puffy clouds. "I don't want to quit now that I have some theories I want to test out. I want to continue until I can harness it properly and it can actually aid me in battle. I know I'd be able to take on Laputa with my own hands."

"Then you have your answer," Pan said.

Malachi stood up then and moved to the window sill to lean his elbow upon it. The window had a clear view to the sky and he found subtle amusement looking up at the clouds. "But I can't be that reckless anymore." He glanced at Jensen who seemed all ears listening to them. "I just can't. Bra would kill me if I told her something like that. It would be extremely selfish of me if I ignored all the obvious signs and pretended as if everything was alright."

"To care about your own wellbeing—that's a good thing—but sometimes it's a hard thing to do. Grandpa could care less about his wellbeing so long as he was doing the things he loved and that was fighting new and more powerful opponents. Grandma always worried about him, but he did what he thought he should do. He was someone who put 'fun' over most other things almost in a selfish way, throwing himself unnecessarily into danger. But Grandpa is considered a hero, forever trying to break his own limits even if it killed him."

"I've heard about him," Malachi said as he turned towards Pan now leaning his back against the sill with crossed arms. "Not only was he the person people ran to when there was trouble, he probably really liked doing it. That must have made it easier on everybody else. Maybe that willingness to help is the reason he isn't here any longer. You can't compare me to him—he doesn't sound anything like me."

"I wouldn't say that," Pan said, "The drive is certainly there and you are a force for good. Just like him, you want to become stronger even if it is just to take on Laputa."

"Seems you're always looking for the best in things—perhaps that's just how you are. Either way," Malachi said with a sigh, "It wouldn't be wise to continue something when the risks outweigh the benefits. At least that's what I have to tell myself."

Before Pan could respond, her cellphone began to ring. She pulled it out of her pocket and glanced at the glowing screen. Malachi was just able to make out the name "Marron". "Hold on, I have to take this. Excuse me."

As she answered, she stepped out of the room leaving him alone with Jensen. Malachi vaguely remembered Marron—the third person he'd seen with Bra when he'd officially met her at the karaoke bar. He stood for a while in silence before looking over at Jensen who'd taken to sitting on the bed and staring down at the ground.

"You've been uncommonly quiet," Malachi commented, "What's on your mind?"

Jensen took a moment before looking up at him. "It's just an opinion, but…I don't think you should give up. And if anything bad happens to you, I'll take care of it."

"Jensen, this is the second time you've been confident about something you don't fully understand."

"But, I _will_ understand it eventually. And if there's anything I know about it, it's that it's there when I need it the most."

"Hm, seems we both have things we should work on."

Jensen smiled briefly at him, but Malachi could tell that something else was bothering him. He waited patiently for the other to continue knowing that Jensen couldn't keep things to himself for long.

"Umm…well…what you said to Pan—what does it mean if you're not 'interested'?"

"Interested?" Malachi repeated in confusion, "What are you—oh," A knowing look came to his face, "You've been eavesdropping."

"Sorry—is that bad?" Jensen asked.

"You just apologized for it. Maybe you already know," Malachi said with a grin. "As for what me and Pan were talking about—don't worry about it. You're too young."

"Then I'll just look it up myself 'cus there's a thing called the internet."

"By all means, I won't stop you. But do you even know what you're searching for?"

"Mmmm…No."

Malachi chuckled at this. "Maybe it's better that way. C'mon, let's head into the living room." _Wouldn't want Bra to find us in Pan's room for any reason._

The two of them exited Pan's room. He could tell that it wasn't a place that she spent much time in. Only the essentials occupied her room, but even this gave him some information about her. Once in the living room, he took a seat on the couch. Pan was outside on her balcony again, but this time the sliding door was closed and she seemed to be having quite the conversation with Marron.

"I wonder what she's talking about on the phone," Jensen said out of curiosity.

"None of our business," Malachi said with a sigh.

"Okay," Jensen said with a note of despondency.

Malachi watched the other clearly paying close attention to Pan probably trying to make out the words from her mouth movements. For the most part, however, Pan was turned away from them. With nothing to do at the moment, something as mundane as a conversation over the phone drew Jensen's attention.

"I'm bored," Jensen complained.

Malachi was already leaning his head against his hand propped up by his arm against the armrest. He took this time now to reflect on what could have happened in his last spar with Pan. If he could only focus a bit more…maybe it might come back to him.

"Bra will be here soon," Malachi answered, "Be patient until then."

He wondered if he should do something about the other's boredom, think up some game to pass the time. Malachi simply wasn't in the mood for that sort of thing even as the silence bore on. No, he was more interested in trying to figure out his current dilemma. It was easier to start from the beginning of the day and work his way on.

The day started out like most others with a bothersome headache. That was right after the strange dream he'd been having—one that he probably would not have recalled had Pan not awakened him in the middle of it. She'd been in her room, he assumed. It was a mystery to him why she had decided to do as much. Was she disturbed in some way? She never mentioned it. Clearly Jensen who'd been in the living room with him, had not been concerned enough to intervene and Malachi had been shown time and again just how invested Jensen was in his continued wellbeing. He realized that he could care less why things had happened as they did—it was small details that were detracting him from the full picture.

He'd told Pan that he'd been trapped in a cage, but in reality, his mind had returned him to that abandoned factory where Laputa had had him for over a week. He couldn't escape. In his dream, Trunks never regained control. In that dark world, he'd never met Bra and no one cared about him past his money and prestige. Somehow, he knew that no one would come for him and he'd given up hope. So much time had passed in that dream, yet it had occurred all in the span of a few hours in the night. It was an abyss he wished to never return, but he knew he would.

On the balcony, he and Pan had spoken to each other—Jensen had been apparently eavesdropping at the time. Malachi hadn't meant to expose so much information about himself, but Pan was different. She was a very open person, kind, and understanding. He felt that she would listen to anything he had to say without laughing it off or trying to belittle it. He trusted her because he could read her like an open book—she wore her emotions on her sleeves. She was the kind of person who would find it difficult to lie about things.

They'd eaten breakfast where he and Pan noticed Jensen being a bit quieter than usual. Now he knew it was because he'd overheard their conversation. Clearly, he hadn't understood everything said, but he must have been deep in thought. After that, they'd made their way to the same spot as last time in the surrounding forest.

Moments before he started to fight Pan, he'd felt confident. He knew it would happen. In that moment when he was on the cusp of transformation, he knew that he simply had to push through. It was easier said than done, but it seemed impossible now for him to fail. Eventually, he felt his energy spiraling around him, coursing fiercely through his veins in response to his eagerness and anticipation—he knew his own emotions affected his ki. If there was anything Pan had taught him, it was that he needed to be in the right state of mind. He needed to match his emotional intent from before and his ki would respond in kind. All he needed to do was picture Vegeta with his smug denial towards the very thing he'd been working at for so long and his belittling eyes. He was always so secure in the knowledge that he was Saiyan and Malachi was human. One would always be stronger than the other no matter how hard he trained. He'd hated everyone's certainty on the subject, but especially Vegeta's. It had all come to a head that day and his frustrations were all compounded and amplified by his own physical pain at the time. There'd been no headache yesterday as he felt his energy increasing to levels he never dreamed of before. It was difficult to harness. It was even more difficult to suspend his own disbelief as his energy seemed to have a mind of its own.

All complexities vanished in the might of his own transformation. He wanted only to fight. That was it. He was starting to remember now. There was an insatiable desire to not only fight but to completely overwhelm his opponent. He wanted to annihilate his opposition. No matter how hard he tried, that was the only thing he could grasp and it felt impossible to resist. He could hear Pan's voice trying to get him to see reason. He found himself scrambling to take hold of it, in a sea of wild incomprehensible thoughts threatening to take away all semblance of sanity. It had been her voice and their continued fight which had dragged him back to somewhat stable grounds. Yes, that was it. But what happened next? _Don't stop there…please…_ He could feel another abyss opening right beneath his feet. It happened so suddenly that he could not stop himself from falling. His heart caught in his throat as shock gripped him. He felt something physically shaking him, but he didn't understand from where. Then everything started disintegrating around him and a bright light emerged.

It took him a moment to realize that he was opening his eyes. He was gasping for breath and holding his chest as if he had actually been falling, but that couldn't be right.

"What's wrong, Daddy?" Jensen's voice came from above him. "Are you alright?"

The child was standing in front of him and Malachi noticed his hand on his shoulder. He waited for his breathing to calm a little before looking up towards him. "I'm fine," he answered Jensen not willing to go into things right at that moment. "Was I asleep?"

Jensen nodded. The concern never left his eyes. "For a little while."

Malachi didn't remember closing his eyes, but Jensen had no reason to lie. He glanced over towards the balcony and Pan was still there on the phone. His heart skipped a beat when there was a knock at the door.

"They're here—I've been trying to wake you," Jensen said finally.

Malachi nodded slowly. His throat felt dry and he had to gulp a couple of times to make his voice sound less hoarse. "Thank you," he replied as he finally climbed to his feet and went over to the door to answer it.

As soon as he opened the door, he was attacked with kisses and hugs from Bra immediately relaying the worry she must have had for some time now.

"Happy to see you too," Malachi said when he was finally able to.

"You look well! I pictured it so much worse in my head," Bra exclaimed to the other.

"As you can see, I'm not on my deathbed," Malachi said with a laugh.

Bra held him tightly with a grip strong enough to crush normal people. It took her a moment to pull away from him. "Don't joke around with stuff like that," she said in a more serious tone.

He wondered if she knew about what Laputa had told him. Bulma could have just have easily mentioned it to her, but Bra never referred to it. Speaking of Bulma, she'd already made her way inside and sat down on the couch opposite to the one Malachi had previously been sitting.

"Look, I'm fine. I appreciate the gesture, but you didn't have to come all this way."

"Please, you act like we came all the way around the world—it took us a couple of hours of flying. And…I knew something was wrong. I could _feel_ it."

Bra had explained to him a long time ago that due to their emotional attachment, she could sense things about him from far away if it was potent enough. He wondered if she might have some added insight into what had happened. "What did you feel exactly?" Malachi asked.

"Well…I felt like I was losing you physically and mentally too. It was strange. I assumed you must have been hurt, but now that I think about it, I think it was something else…." Realization came to her eyes. "It was just like when you transformed before, but so much…more. Oh, I'm right, aren't I?" Bra said probably reading his expression. He wasn't trying to hide anything. "You actually did that thing again and that's why you got hurt."

"No more harmed than what I would be if I'd done nothing."

"You don't know that," she said haughtily.

"Alright, you two—we didn't come here for arguing. Malachi, I'm glad to see you up and around; Pan told us a different story. You must have recovered quickly. That's a good thing. Come over here—let me look at you."

She was using that tone of voice again—the one she'd used on the long ride back from that abandoned factory. It was one he only heard from her and he felt compelled to do exactly as she said. It felt rude not to. He sat down beside the woman obediently. She had a subtle smile on her face and a knowing look.

"Well, you don't look any worse than you already have been, but you certainly don't look better. I would take out my scanner, but I doubt I'd find any new information. Taking it easy would help decrease the frequency of your headaches. The more you wear yourself out, the worse it gets. I'm sure you know that already."

"Yes. You've reminded me several times."

"And yet, here we are."

"I know it looks like I'm not listening, but I hear you. This," he began as he glanced over at Jensen, "Is something I have to do."

"No, it isn't," Bra said with crossed arms.

Malachi looked up at her knowing that she was steadfast about this.

"It is!" Jensen interjected making them both turn his way.

Bra looked none too pleased with his outburst, but she struggled to keep her composure. "Now, Jensen, this is an adult conversation—"

"He's right," Malachi interrupted her. "This is one thing I won't bend on. We talked about this before anyway."

"Yeah, a _very_ long time ago and that was before all of this started happening to you. Look, I know it might seem like I'm being…rigid, but I can't stand to watch this any longer. Why do you have to keep doing this to yourself? In the end, what does it matter, if you lose your life to it?"

"I want to become stronger," Malachi finally said as he looked at Bra squarely. "So that I could stand a chance against Laputa."

Her expression saddened after he spoke. "You're just making up excuses. This is the thing you like to do—fighting—and there is nothing anyone could say to stand in your way of that. I don't know how anyone can stand by and watch the person they love continually throw themselves into danger and consider it something that they _must_ do. You're not even a Saiyan—that isn't your world. You should just leave it to the people who know what they're doing."

"Bra," Malachi began slowly. He could see tears in her eyes. "I'm sorry that I can't make you understand, but your support would be most appreciated."

Her fists clenched up at this. "I can't believe you. You won't even _consider_ anything that I just said."

"I understand exactly what you're saying. I can even empathize with your position, but I've made up my mind already. Please stop trying to convince me otherwise because it's a waste of time."

Her eyes were moist, but she never shed a tear. Instead her eyebrows furrowed in frustration. "I can't believe you're being _this_ stubborn—like I'm the one who's not making any sense. Mom, do you seriously have nothing to add to this?"

Bulma stood up. He noticed that she didn't look all that perturbed about the scene before her. "This is something you two are going to have to work out yourselves. I do think my work here is done so I'll be outside waiting for you, Bra."

Bra watched her leave with disbelief, but Malachi knew that she was simply not going to get between them which made sense to him.

"I know you've been worried about me," Malachi said to the near seething Bra. "But I can't just avoid doing things because it might not end up well. That's not living and you know it. There's always risk no matter what you decide to do. You agreed to this—I told you exactly what I'd be doing here. You can't just backpedal. Believe it or not even if you don't fully agree with me and you have some misgivings—I still value your support. Please, Bra…"

The anger in her eyes were still there and it had only worsened. "Do what you want. It's not like you care about anyone other than yourself—both of you," Bra said as she glanced over at the defensive Jensen. "I see this has been a complete waste of my time visiting you. I'll take my leave."

Bra began immediately towards the door and Malachi had to nearly run to catch her before she left. He took hold of her shoulder stopping her in her tracks. His hold was gentle and she could have continued storming away if she wanted to, but she apparently decided not to.

"Turn around," Malachi said gently.

She didn't do so quickly and for a moment Malachi wondered if she would simply leave, too angry to even remain in close proximity, but she didn't. A tear had escaped partway down her cheek and she looked up at him with a mix of despondency and anger.

"What do you want?" Bra asked drily.

Malachi wrapped his arms around her and then kissed her gently on the forehead. "I promise you—I won't die. This is something I must do or else it will haunt me for the rest of my life. Maybe it won't be today, but one day you'll understand. I'm sure of it."

"I don't see how," Bra said with a frown. Even now her words had less of a bite.

Malachi decided to leave it at this. Though she was not happy as she finally left, he'd left her with a more positive outlook. She was worried about him dying, plain and simple, and that was something he hadn't planned on doing willingly. He was prepared for it, but that was something he didn't feel he should relay to her at the moment while she was in that state. With each passing day as the migraines continued to bare down on him, Laputa's words began to sound more and more like the truth. If that day ever came, he'd rather have fought than have laid down resigned to his fate.

He took out his phone when it vibrated in his pocket. He'd gotten a long wall of text from Bulma. _**I hope you two work things out. I had my colleagues who owed me a big favor develop some medicine that will help with the pain. It will only treat the symptoms, but not the source of the problem. The data that I gathered confirms that these migraines have worsened from day to day both in length and severity. As of now, there are no drugs that exist that could completely eradicate migraines. If the trend continues as is, you will likely die from a brain hemorrhage—you'll be able to tell when that's happening as it will feel worse than anything else. Overly exerting yourself only shortens the time you have left; at most two weeks. I asked Dende if he could be nearby or even on alert so that he could help you swiftly, but he refuses. As Guardian of Earth, he maintains that he shouldn't play favoritism to one person over another—clearly he's hypocritical. I won't go into the heated argument that ensued. You must have left a terrible impression on him and he's always had an issue with using his healing powers on people he doesn't think deserves it—it's only gotten worse with age. Everyone's gotten worse, if you ask me, since Goku left. I understand why you want to fight Laputa—he exploited something in you that even now you struggle with. I can see the signs even if you try to hide it. I guess you can say I'm an expert in seeing those kinds of things. Vegeta and I have a plan to take down Laputa once and for all which involves you and anyone else who still calls themselves fighters. Come back home tonight and we'll discuss the details.**_

Malachi stood reading that text for over a minute, scrolling up and down the text over and over again. These were things that she'd probably wanted to tell him, but with Bra the way she was, she decided on doing this. She'd confirmed his suspicions about his migraines, but seeing it written down so frankly took him aback. He could now count down the days he still had left to finish all that he wanted to do in life. There wasn't enough time for everything, but he'd already gotten the most important things done. He'd become quite somber as he read it over for the third time until he was able to muster up some determination. She'd asked him to come back home. It left him with a warm feeling of acceptance. After all these years of denial in order to protect himself from that dark pit of loneliness, had he found it? Could he finally let his guard down? Had he found his home? He hoped he wasn't jumping the gun as warming thoughts swirled around in his mind, but his time was short and he didn't have the energy to reign in his dangerously comforting thoughts.

"Daddy?" Jensen asked breaking the other out of his state of reverie.

Just as he looked towards him, the sliding door opened and Pan stepped back inside—he'd almost forgotten that she was even there.

"Sorry about that," she said with a smile, "Did they come yet?"

"They came and went," Malachi said with a grin. "I think I'll be leaving as well. What I've learned today will have to do."

"Well, alright, but come back anytime; I'd love the workout."

"I'll keep that in mind. It's been fun and enlightening sparring with you. There's still some things I'd like to learn from you."

"It's so weird when you say stuff like that to me, but if you think I can still help you—I'll do the best I can."

"But, wait a minute," Jensen said cutting in, "Where are we even going?"

"Jensen," Malachi said with a smile that he could not hide, "We're going home."


	47. The Great Pretenders

**Vegeta hardly felt like waiting for Malachi, but Bulma had reassured him that he would be coming soon.** Of course, Malachi had to use one of the slowest modes of travel. Why he still didn't choose to fly was a mystery in itself. Was he so used to driving that he couldn't possibly do it? Where was the sense of urgency? Then again, Bulma had informed him of Malachi's prognosis—maybe he was simply conserving energy.

Bra had no idea about this and Bulma had insisted that Malachi be the one who told her. Vegeta wasn't exactly looking forward to her learning of the bad news. Apart from the fact that she'd likely become unpredictable, he wanted to protect her from the pain he knew she'd feel, but against something like this, he was powerless. It was something he didn't like to dwell on. He tried to distract himself with training, but this did nothing more than pass the time. He simply could not focus.

After taking a long shower, he found himself in the living room again staring down at the incomplete puzzle. His eyes were drawn to the empty space. It wasn't too much longer that he finally sensed Malachi and Jensen nearby. They must have just pulled up. Vegeta sat back on the couch expectantly, but Malachi didn't immediately step out of the car. A few minutes passed and nothing seemed to be happening. That was when he felt Jensen moving closer until eventually he heard the front door open. Jensen seemed to know exactly where he was as he made a beeline for the living room.

"I knew it!" Jensen exclaimed as soon as he entered the room.

His eyes had been immediately drawn to the puzzle. "So, _you're_ the one who's always doing them when I'm not looking."

"Well," Vegeta began casually, "I wouldn't say always." He didn't expound, but he'd certainly seen many instances of Bulma idly placing a few pieces and Malachi who would often do half of it before stopping himself.

"This time I'm gonna be the one who finishes it," Jensen said as he fished a small cardboard piece out of his pocket.

Vegeta watched as Jensen placed the final piece into position. He didn't want to admit it, but seeing the puzzle completed was quite relieving. Jensen looked to be especially proud of himself having only done that small part—he supposed it didn't take much to amuse a child.

"What's taking your father?" Vegeta asked.

Very quickly the joy in his eyes dulled as he looked up at Vegeta. "He'll be coming—he just wasn't…feeling so well. Just give him a sec."

Vegeta wasn't too surprised with the news. He wondered how Malachi was taking it. If the plan was to work, they had to do it quickly—more quickly than he had originally planned—and Malachi had to be onboard. He would be given minimal information about everything—the more he knew, then the more Laputa could potentially know. He would talk to Malachi while Bulma was already enlisting help from others to fix up the trap.

Jensen had sat down to trace his fingers over the pieces before Vegeta finally sensed Malachi moving towards the manor. He looked up only when Malachi finally stepped into the room. He appeared no more worse than what he usually looked these days, but he did seem to move a bit slower. Perhaps he was having trouble with keeping his balance. He wasted no time getting to the couch and sitting down.

"Bulma isn't here," Malachi noted, "So I guess I have only you to tell me about this plan."

"You feel up to it?" Vegeta asked.

"I have to be," Malachi said with no hesitation. "I don't exactly have the luxury of time."

Vegeta noticed Jensen looking up paying closer attention as Malachi said this. Vegeta couldn't be sure if Malachi had informed Jensen about Bulma's warning. It was likely that he hadn't.

"Your part is simple. There's an abandoned shack between this city and Parsley City in the south. You will go there when I tell you to. Once there, you will have to convince Laputa that you, in fact, want him to possess you again. I know this goes against everything you've been trying to do," Vegeta began explaining as he saw the other's expression become a bit more contemplative.

"No—that won't be an issue."

"If Laputa doesn't show up, then this entire thing won't work," Vegeta reminded him.

"Don't worry—he'll show up. I assume you want him to be inside of the building."

"Yes—"

"Where a trap has been set," Malachi concluded. "How does it work?" he asked clearly curious about it.

"It doesn't matter either way. What matters is that you get Laputa inside of it presumably by being in it yourself."

"I see," Malachi said looking away.

"Once you have him inside, you will have to give us the signal to spring the trap."

"No," Malachi said shaking his head, "I'd be too…unreliable. Clearly there's a way for you to see into the place—just use your eyes. As soon as he comes in, don't hesitate. You told me I need to be convincing. I don't think I can snap back and forth between sides. It was hard enough when he had me trapped. I give him an inch and I'm not sure if I'd be able to stay in control."

It was no small thing for Malachi to be admitting this in front of him, but he supposed things were different and there was no room for mistakes. "We'll take care of that then."

"And what if this fails?" Malachi asked looking at him once again.

"Then it's back to the drawing board," Vegeta lied.

"A lot is riding on this then. I'll have to do my best." He seemed a little deflated at hearing that this was it. He either performed with flying colors or everything went downhill from there.

Vegeta was adamant about not giving Malachi too much information. The only ones who knew the full details was him, Bulma, and anyone else who decided to help. He'd sworn them all to secrecy. Vegeta was prepared for the worst-case scenario. He watched as Malachi climbed to his feet unsteadily, reminding Vegeta just how much time they didn't have. Vegeta was sure if he asked the other how he was doing, he'd not like his answer.

"If all else fails, do what you have to," Malachi said, "For obvious reasons."

Vegeta couldn't see the other's expression as he was turned from him then. He couldn't tell if his statement was out of self-pity or resignation. Either way, he didn't like his line of thinking. "You may have given up on yourself, but—"

"I haven't," Malachi interrupted him.

"Is that right?" Vegeta said only half-believing him, "Could have fooled me."

"I don't want this drawn out any longer than it has to," Malachi clarified. "Promise me," he said turning to look at him, "You'll do everything you can to defeat Laputa once and for all no matter the cost."

"Only if you promise me something in return," Vegeta said. Malachi looked at him with a raised eyebrow waiting for him to continue. "Don't throw away your life."

"Sure," Malachi said turning away, "Never know when some fairy tale solution will come out of nowhere and guarantee everyone's happiness."

Malachi made his way out of the living room probably to go to his room. There were two sets of stairs one had to climb to make it to the second floor and Vegeta suspected that was why the other opted to go elsewhere in the end. He wound up settling down in one of the guest rooms downstairs and Jensen quickly joined him. Bra as well made her way to him, though not immediately. Perhaps the two were at odds with each other again.

With a sigh, he turned on the television. Though he'd much rather be at Bulma's side helping her build the trap, she insisted that he stay at the house to keep watch and make sure nothing out of the ordinary happened. Considering that Laputa had gone out of his way to get rid of him, it was more likely that Laputa would be keeping tabs on Vegeta than Bulma. They didn't want to give Laputa any hint to their plan.

A little over half an hour passed before Bra came storming into the living room with accusing eyes. Vegeta had no clue as to what had caused such a mood to overtake her.

"Tell me he's lying," Bra demanded.

"About what?" Vegeta asked.

" _Everything._ I knew things were bad, but this is just plain shitty! What you told him about how long he had left to live—you can't be serious. Isn't there something you guys can do? Can't you just get Dende to do something?"

"Your mother already spoke to Dende at great length. In the end, it came down to him not being willing to give one person special treatment."

"Oh, but I bet if it was someone he actually liked, he wouldn't hesitate."

"I'm sure Bulma said as much and it didn't change his mind."

Bra's hands clenched up at this. "Then _maybe_ we need to convince him by other means—I'd have no trouble showing him a piece of my mind."

"Bra, no—that's not how we go about things. He's the Guardian of Earth—"

"Who's completely useless and in excess of now that we don't have the dragon balls. Think about it; all he _can_ do is heal people and he won't even do that."

"So what do you suggest we do?"

"Can't you just force him to do it?"

"Force him how?"

"You know how," Bra bit back.

"You want me to bully the Guardian of Earth into doing something he clearly doesn't want to do? _That's_ your suggestion?"

"From the stories I've heard about you, it's not like it would be something out of your comfort zone."

Vegeta hadn't expected to hear such things from her. Bra had come into his life well after all the turmoil of settling down on a completely foreign planet along with all the backpedaling and constant denial of anything that even marginally benefited him in any way. When he thought back on those times, he often wondered why he'd fought against it so hard. Then again, perhaps it was more accurate to wonder why things had managed to turn out as well as it had. Someone like him who'd lived a good portion of his life wreaking death and destruction upon others all in the name of profit would likely meet some pitiful end having passed on nothing useful. He'd been resigned to that fate not knowing any other way to live until that day when he met Goku. From there, it was an excruciatingly slow process to where he found himself now. It was not something he broadcasted and anyone who mattered knew already. He certainly wasn't bursting at the seams to tell his children his life story in all its gory details. They knew him as he was now and that was enough. It seemed, however, that Bra might already know a few things without him ever having to say a word. If that was the case, why hadn't she ever come to him to clarify and make sure what was being said was true?

"And what stories are those?" Vegeta asked.

"Just stuff that I overheard," Bra said exasperatedly.

"From who and where?" Vegeta pressed.

"It doesn't matter," she said with a huff. "Everybody knows you came to Earth to destroy it once upon a time—or are you going to sit there and tell me that everyone's wrong?"

"That was a long time ago—"

"Yeah, I know," Bra said quickly. "So, it shouldn't be out of the realm of possibility to 'push' Dende in the right direction. It's not like he can fight or anything and you don't have to be that rough with him."

"Bra," Vegeta said with a sigh, "You can't go around coercing people to do your bidding. If he doesn't want to help, then that's his choice."

"What if it was Mom? You wouldn't be so blasé about this. You'd already be over there right now."

"Maybe I would be, but I'd want someone to stop me before it got that far. You shouldn't compare yourself to me—you're better than that."

"Please, Dad, no one could stop you once you set your mind to something. Seriously, who's going to stop you? 18? You're _the_ strongest person on Earth right now which is why I don't understand why Dende even has the audacity to ignore us."

"In some ways, I'm glad he took such a stance—"

"Seriously?"

"It means," Vegeta started again a bit louder, "that he's no longer scared of me. We don't exactly have the best history. Not doing anything at all will probably send a stronger message than going down there and forcing his hand. Besides, _he_ has to be the one to use his healing art and who's to say he wouldn't be opposed to dying to prove a point?"

"But—"

"What if he had family, people who he cared deeply about? Would you threaten their lives in order to 'persuade' him?"

"Well, no…"

"For someone like Dende, he'd feel all too comfortable taking anything you threw at him if it only affected him, but once you bring others into it—he'd be hard-pressed to deny you. Gohan is quite vulnerable these days; it wouldn't be too difficult to drag him over to the Lookout so that Dende could get a front row seat to his demise. You'd crush any stubborn streak he might have and he'd bend to your every whim."

Bra stared at him wide-eyed. "W-Why Gohan?" she asked.

"They're pretty close. Were it not for him, I doubt he'd agree so readily to take over Kami's position, leaving everybody he'd ever known. I'd say one could sufficiently manipulate him through Gohan."

"I wasn't…talking about going _that_ far…"

"Dende is clearly not an option," Vegeta said turning his attentions back to the television. "I don't believe he'd be of much help anyway. As long as I've known him, I've never seen him cure ailments or anything that isn't physical wounds."

"So I should just…give up?" Bra asked.

Vegeta could hear her voice wavering. He hoped that she wouldn't start tearing up. "Ask yourself this," he began as he turned the volume down, "Would you want him to give up on you were you in the same position?"

"You're right," Bra said after a moment. "But he should be taking it easy not being part of some plan that may not even work."

"He won't have to do much. If there was some way I could do this without him, I would. He's agreed to it and he knows what's at stake."

"Yeah, I know, wholeheartedly. The more danger, the better, it seems. None of it seems fair," she said distantly, "We haven't even…" She let her voice trail off. "I guess there's nothing more you can do."

Vegeta noticed the anger she'd entered the room with was now completely gone. When he looked up at her again, she'd turned away. Comforting someone was not his forte and he wasn't sure there was anything he could say that could cheer her up. Perhaps it wasn't his job to do so. Maybe it was impossible to cheer up someone who would definitely be losing their mate very soon. Vegeta watched her leave with far less vigor than before—it did little to bolster his own confidence.

Getting rid of Laputa was imperative and it had fallen to him to do so. If he failed, if he in anyway became incapacitated, he struggled to think who could fill his shoes aside from Pan. Though she was well-trained, she lacked experience and guile. He hoped it wouldn't come to that. Though he had something in place if the initial trap didn't work, he didn't have anything in place should something happen to him. At the very least, he wouldn't be the only one there and Bulma had made a second dispenser gun so that they could have more of a chance to stop Laputa in his tracks.

Bra returned to the room Malachi occupied and Vegeta suspected she would stay there for the rest of the day and onward. Malachi's ki signature appeared erratic, but relatively low—it was indicative of one who was in and out of sleep. Clearly, he was having trouble resting and it was probably due to all those headaches he seemed to be experiencing. That was when he remembered the medicine Bulma had for him. Easing the pain in any capacity would likely be much appreciated.

Bulma had told him that these were strong pills and shouldn't be taken on an empty stomach. He made his way to her lab where she'd stored them for safekeeping. It was a small bottle with only five pills. One pill was sufficient for three days. Pragmatic as always, Bulma made only as many as he was likely to take in the time he had left. Though he knew Malachi's fate, holding such a small bottle of pills meant to ease one's suffering before their death was enough to bother even him. How must it have been for Bulma who'd been working tirelessly to create them in time? He stared at the bottle longer than he anticipated, imagining not only how Bra might react when the time came, but the rest of the world. True, he hadn't actually made new music in over a year, that wasn't long enough for his dedicated fans to lose interest and from what he understood, Malachi had _a lot_ of those.

Every footstep closer to Malachi became heavier and heavier. Malachi hadn't even been able to make it to his own room. The tenacious Malachi had decided the entire endeavor to be not worth the effort. His condition was clearly worsening. He wondered if he'd still be strong enough to carry out his part of the plan. They needed to call out Laputa on their own terms or else they'd never gain the upper hand and Laputa would remain free to do whatever he pleased.

Once Vegeta made it to the guest room that Malachi had decided to call his own, he found both Bra and Jensen to be thoroughly asleep near him. It was a large bed. Enough for the other two to stretch out comfortably without intruding on each other. Malachi, however, did not appear to have joined them. He shivered noticeably beneath the covers and he'd already changed position twice since Vegeta arrived.

"Malachi," Vegeta said in a quiet tone so as not to wake the others, "Here. The medicine Bulma made for you. Don't take it on an empty stomach." He set the small bottle on the nightstand beside him.

"Oh…that's right," Malachi said with a muffled voice from under the covers. "She mentioned that. I don't know if I should even bother at this point. Just a few more days…"

"Hey," Vegeta began with an edge to his tone, "Bulma worked hard on these—I suggest you take them." Malachi's voice sounded weak and shaky. The more he heard it, the more it began to rub him the wrong way.

"I'm not hungry and if I don't have to leave my somewhat cozy, warm spot, then I won't."

"Don't make me drag you out of this room. You'll eat something and then you'll take the medicine."

Malachi was quiet for a while before he answered. "I would hate to be dragged."

"I'll be waiting in the kitchen," Vegeta said stonily.

Why did he have to sound so weak? He hated hearing it from Malachi. It bothered him more than anything else. As he came to the kitchen he wondered what Malachi would eat or even what he _should_ be eating. He only knew that the other needed something if he was to take the medicine without further mishap. Somehow, he couldn't picture the other scarfing down anything he could order from the places he knew offhand. Of course, there was always the old standby that Bulma insisted on having whenever she was sick—which was far and few between: soup. There was a stockpile in the pantry as no one would actually want to eat it unless absolutely necessary or had no taste buds to care either way. It was the one thing he _could_ do right in the kitchen without completely screwing things up.

He eventually found himself stirring a very sad concoction of noodle and broth in a pan. "Weakling humans," Vegeta said to himself as he did so. Not only could they become sick but also lose their appetite as a result—it was a clear recipe for disaster. Without nutrients, one became weaker and it seemed being sick was a clear obstacle to receiving them. How such a race of beings could have survived for this long was an ongoing mystery even to him. Vegeta wasn't exactly sure when it was ready, but he was sure a pan that was rapidly boiling was clue enough. He made certain to turn off the eye—he'd burned enough pans by now to know—then took out a bowl and poured the steaming contents into it. He was done. He'd managed a simple bowl of soup without complete disaster.

As much time as it had taken for the food to come to fruition, Malachi had not even made it out of his room and Vegeta was beginning to wonder if he _would_ have to drag him out. He'd forgotten a spoon, so he went back for one. Midway through his trip, however, he considered also getting a glass of something. He stared in the refrigerator wondering just what would be most helpful. Then he decided on milk because he'd heard or read somewhere that it supposedly made humans stronger. It wasn't until he set the rather tall glass of milk on the table that he heard Malachi making his way through the house. Soup was still piping hot by the time he made an appearance in the dining room—his hair was a mess and his complexion was ghostly. Vegeta was sure he must have noticed what was on the table, but he seemed a bit confused as Malachi looked at him questioningly.

"Sit. Eat," Vegeta growled as he grew irritated with the other's lack of understanding.

"You made that for me?" Malachi finally asked.

Vegeta didn't reward him with an answer. He watched the other take his advice and sit down at the table. After a moment's pause, so did Vegeta, but across from him.

"W-Well, thanks—that's was…unexpected," Malachi managed to say.

Vegeta wondered what exactly the other had been expecting—perhaps that he made something for himself. Strangely enough, the thought hadn't even crossed his mind. But even more odd was the blush that had come across Malachi's face—it was as clear as day and Vegeta had no idea what to make of it. Was he embarrassed? Suddenly shy?—the guy who had no quibbles belting out sappy, love songs to the masses, the guy who never seemed to be intimidated by anything?

Malachi smiled at him—it wasn't a half-smile or one filled with mischievous intent, but a real one. "Seriously, the world might be ending right now for all I know," he said with a chuckle. "Have I made some sort of chef out of you or something?"

The soup was so piping hot that Malachi hadn't bothered trying to take a sip. He stirred it slowly as the steam continued to rage from the bowl.

"All I did was warm something up on a stove," Vegeta said gruffly, now in turn becoming a bit embarrassed by all the ado he was making about it.

"Warm?" Malachi teased, "Boiled to death you mean. The cup of milk is so thoughtful and pairs wonderfully with soup. Yeah, I'm sure that's a thing—everyone definitely drinks milk with soup."

Vegeta let him have his fun realizing it had been a long time since he'd seen the other in a good mood. Most would find it a bit difficult were they in his shoes. Malachi blew into the soup gently, waved his hands over it with surprising speed to no avail and then gave up altogether as he began on the milk. It apparently didn't take too much to amuse him. Despite the startling heat, however, Malachi let his hands stay on the sides of the bowl and he moved it closer to him as if more interested in the hot steam itself than the soup. "Perfect," Vegeta heard Malachi say to himself.

"Enjoying yourself?" Vegeta asked finally.

"More than I thought," he answered truthfully. Then in a more quieter tone he continued. "I've missed this."

"What do you mean?"

"Your company. Of course, that's only reserved for when you're training me, right?"

"Just turned out that way," Vegeta replied, already beginning to see what the other was getting at.

"But I bet you'd drop everything if it was your family who wanted to hang out."

Vegeta was slightly puzzled by this. "Malachi, you are—" He paused before he said the word: _family_. It was a given and he hadn't expected to find himself having to say it aloud.

Though he didn't finish, Malachi seemed to catch on and he soon had a knowing look on his face. He took a long sip from the tall glass.

While Vegeta supposed the other could do just fine partaking in what was in front of him without him being there, he wanted to make sure that he actually went through with everything. But more than that, it didn't seem like the best time to leave Malachi to his own thoughts.

The steam from the bowl had calmed down a little and Malachi dipped a tentative spoon into the liquid. He lifted the spoon only partway before starting to blow on it. Vegeta noticed his hands were quite unsteady and he soon ceased trying to bring the soup-filled spoon to his lips. It seemed he couldn't hold anything for too long. He blew on the soup a few more times before he dared bringing the bowl to his lips. When he did, he took only a small sip before placing it back down again. The entire ordeal appeared tiring to him. The weariness in his eyes spoke volumes.

"Do I _have_ to finish this whole bowl?"

"Yes," Vegeta replied singularly.

"Fine," he said with a sigh.

It took him a few moments, but soon he held the bowl to his lips again and took in what looked like only slightly more than before. At this rate, finishing the soup would take ages. Malachi fished for something in his pocket once he placed the hot bowl back down. He eventually took out the sad, little pill bottle, but instead of setting it down he held it longer in his hand and his eyes lingered.

"I'm just counting down the days, aren't I?" Malachi said distantly, "No matter what I do or what happens, it always comes to that."

Vegeta had no idea how to respond to this so he remained quiet as the other rambled.

"At least Machi will be spared—she doesn't know who I am. Funny how mystical people tend to make babies when it comes to their intuition or ability to understand their surroundings—being around Machi and many others just like her, such things are a bit…unrealistic. She understands her surroundings insomuch as it pertains to her immediate needs. We're all much older than that when we realize that we're only a small part of a much bigger picture. A baby doesn't know that. Machi doesn't know that. So long as her needs are met, she'll be happy…and I hope she remains that way for a long time to come. She'll only hear nice things about me. Isn't that how it always goes about those who have passed? I've only heard good things about Goku whenever anyone talks about him." Malachi, noticing the soup had cooled down a bit more, lifted it again, but tilted the bowl a bit more this time.

"I wouldn't attribute that solely to him not being around anymore—he's just a really, annoyingly nice guy. Too nice, really. I didn't think it was real for some reason—I'd wanted to knock some sense into him, but he never changed. No matter what I did to him, he never changed. Everyone loved him and everyone has only good things to say about him. Were I not so stubborn, I might have stopped pretending we were somehow always at odds with each other at least long enough to ask him a few questions."

"Like about Instant Transmission," Malachi said with a grin.

"One of many. By the way, did you ever figure that out?"

"Haven't even spent much time thinking about it. It's clearly not impossible if you've seen someone do it before, but it's starting to look that way. Maybe that's a good thing. If I knew how to do it, so would Laputa by now and that would've made things far worse."

"You have a point," Vegeta said.

Even if they had perhaps dodged a bullet, the technique remained out of his reach. It wasn't that he desperately wanted to know that particular move—it was that he simply didn't understand it. As long as he'd been fighting and being exposed to various techniques—he always had an inkling as to what others were capable of and he could predict what his opponent might do, but a technique that could magically make you appear in a different location without any exertion always made little sense to him. Now it seemed the only other person who might have figured it out would not be around long enough to do so. He didn't like to think of all the other things aside from fighting that he might soon be missing once everything was said and done. He'd only known Malachi for a short while. Certainly not long enough to warrant any lasting change should he no longer be present in his life. Even as he thought that, he knew that wasn't true.

Clearly, Malachi was tiring of the whole eating affair as the next time he lifted the bowl, he didn't set it down until he managed to take down the rest of it. He let out a satisfied sigh once finished. Without further ado, he took the medicine. Vegeta hadn't actually seen what the pills looked like until that moment—they were a great deal larger than what he'd assumed, but Malachi made no complaints about this.

"So, I'm guessing you can't tell me just when all this is supposed to go down," Malachi said referring to the plan.

"Soon," Vegeta replied singularly.

If all went well, in three days' time everything would be in place, but he was purposefully vague with Malachi. He didn't want him to know anymore than what he did about what was going to happen. Laputa was apparently so good at emulating human behavior that he could be possessing Malachi right now without anyone knowing. Vegeta liked to think, however, that he was speaking to the real Malachi—nothing seemed particularly off to him.

"I'm sorry," Malachi said unbidden.

"For what?" Vegeta asked.

"For being such an ass to you lately. That whole argument. Going to Pan instead of you. Always avoiding you."

"I hardly noticed," Vegeta lied for the second time that day. This time, he did this simply to spare his feelings. "Seemed like standard practice for you."

"Maybe, but it didn't have to happen like that at the dinner table in front of everyone," he said shaking his head slowly. "And talking to you like that…I just want you to know that I respect you. And I admire you. No matter what, you always know who you are—from the very beginning, I bet. That must have given you strength over all else. You didn't have to pretend to be somebody else. You were simply you. It's not something I could ever emulate—not when my own strength comes from believing in a perpetual lie, some…version of myself that never existed in the first place…"

Vegeta noticed the other nodding off, apparently too tired to even finish his thoughts. Seemed the difficulty of keeping one's eyes open was one he couldn't overcome. The medicine must have already been working—it hadn't taken long. Bulma hadn't claimed that it caused tiredness. Perhaps Malachi hadn't been without pain in so long that it amounted to the same thing once the medicine took effect. Whatever was the case, he was thoroughly asleep now with his head almost perfectly poised against the headrest.

He'd more or less gotten what the other had been trying to tell him. Few people had ever said such things to him. In fact, only Trunks had mentioned something similar though not exactly framed in the same way. And despite what Malachi liked to say about "playing" at being someone else, there's only so much acting someone could do before it became truth. Often in his youth when he became lost, having practically no title to speak of as it was long stripped away—no one acknowledged a prince of a race that had been famously and spectacularly wiped out by Frieza—he would lie to himself so much that he became delusional about his true station in life. He was the lowest on the totem pole with nothing to call his own yet he stubbornly denied such facts and continued to claim what was no longer his anymore—his prince hood—until everyone accepted it, until the lie became the truth. It became a running joke whenever someone said _Prince_ Vegeta; more of an insult than an encouragement, but this too he ignored. Only in lineage could he claim such a title, but in practice he was no longer.

But Malachi's deception was far more intricate than his own as he had literally come from nowhere, having nothing to claim as his own. He'd created something from nothing and perhaps that was an achievement in itself.

As no one was looking, Vegeta easily cleared off the table. Malachi had finished the soup and most of the milk. He'd made no mess at all thankfully. Then, just like on that day he'd first come to Malachi's residence and entertained a partially drunken Malachi, he carried the featherweight man back to his bed. When he deposited him there, he made no fuss whatsoever and Vegeta suspected that it would likely take a lot to rouse him. Vegeta made sure to put the miraculous pill bottle back on the nightstand.

As he made his way back to the living room, he felt a little better about the state of things. As his plan hinged on whether Malachi could perform his part, him finally finding rest was a point in his favor. Clearer minds begot better results. Vegeta decided it would be best to focus on the things he had control over rather than dwelling on the things he did not. He couldn't begin to think about the fact that this might be one of the last times he would be able to speak with Malachi so candidly. He simply could not.


	48. Defiance

AN: Happy Holidays, my wonderful readers!

* * *

 **Malachi found himself staring up at an old dilapidated ceiling lying sprawled on the dirt floor.** He was well rested and he was completely without physical pain. The medicine was working wonders, enough so that he could at least pretend that nothing was wrong with him. He could breathe easily and his mind was clear. The past few days had been quite difficult spending them with who he now called his family. Bra had tried to put on a brave face and Jensen acted as if there was still reason to hope. Who was he to dash the hopes of an impressionable child? He humored Jensen the best he could, but there was always a dark voice in the back of his head mocking every little thing that he did.

Try as he might, he could not pinpoint the cameras that were supposed to be in the building. Vegeta had described to him what the one-room cabin would look like from the outside and inside. This place matched the descriptions spot on, yet it looked completely untampered with. Perhaps that was the point. He'd travelled there with his own car as close to the place as he could possibly get before being forced to travel the rest of the way on foot.

He would take his time. He didn't need to rush. Besides, it was more important that he did his part well rather than botch it by becoming impatient. _Please…Please don't screw this up. Let the last thing I do be of some benefit to someone else._

"Laputa!" Malachi shouted out fearlessly into the air. He sat up slowly then. "Come out of your hiding—I need to speak with you."

For some reason, he expected Laputa's response to be swift. He expected this entire thing to be over briefly, but it was not to be. He looked around himself and saw that nothing had changed. He _felt_ nothing had changed.

"Laputa!" he called out again, "Come out already!"

Vegeta seemed adamant about the fact that Laputa was still quite interested in making Malachi his vessel. Malachi wondered if this still held truth. Perhaps he had simply moved on. Would it not be too difficult to decide that he was too much trouble to bother with any longer? What if Laputa had already embarked on a new plan and he was just old news?

Malachi continued to call out Laputa's name until his lungs grew tired and he sat back down onto the floor staring up at the ceiling. He sighed exasperatedly in boredom. He had a mission to complete and he would not leave until it was done. After a good while of waiting, Malachi was starting to wish he'd bought something to entertain himself, namely his phone. Then after another long while, he found himself dozing off out of utter boredom and having nothing better to do.

He awoke with a jolt when a lightning bolt of pain flowed through him starting in the back of his head. The medication was wearing off, but he'd bought nothing to replenish himself on those. He cursed to himself as he felt the merciless onslaught of pain. At the drop of dime, it was there once again with a vengeance. After having escaped it for so long, it felt quite jarring. He sat up again though with head in hands.

"Laputa," Malachi attempted to call out as loudly as before, but his voice had already gotten much weaker. It was barely above a whisper.

He waited and waited for some sort of sign, some telling noise, but nothing came. When it became too much to continue sitting up, he curled into a ball on his side. He was beginning to think that this was a fool's errand. Then he felt something wet stream down from his nose; he knew exactly what that was as he wiped it away as quickly as possible. The intenseness of the pain this time was near unbearable. For sanity's sake, he clawed at the ground for some small measure of relief. When his muscles became too tired to remain in such a cramped position he spread out again looking upwards. He shivered as the pain continued to flow through him relentlessly and it still yet intensified. Tears sprang to his eyes unbidden, but he didn't have the energy to wipe them away. Was this it? He began to wonder. Had his time come sooner than expected? How accurate was Bulma's prediction—maybe it had been a ballpark estimation.

"Please…" he managed to say aloud, "Please, I don't want to die…" As he said this, he knew that this was the most truthful statement he'd said since he'd gotten there. Despite saying differently to everyone else, despite even lying to himself about it—he knew it wasn't true. But how could he say that? Living meant the potential destruction of everything. He couldn't say that he still wanted to live regardless—that would be selfish. It was such a copout. He'd psyched himself up to it for so long, but in the end as he was presented with it, all he felt was a cold, deafening fear. He was not ready. "I need you, Laputa," he said to the world around him. Laputa was indeed the only person who could stop it all from happening. He was supposed to be "pretending", but he knew that he was no longer acting. His desperation was real.

 _I need you as well. You poor child, look how low you've fallen. I will protect you._

"Where are you?" Malachi asked, now wary. He hadn't heard Laputa's voice in a long while and all the reasons why he'd wanted to keep it that way came rushing back to him.

 _Nearby. I must be cautious._

"Where have you been?"

 _Everywhere. Traveling the world. Searching. Just like you._

"Searching for what?" he asked in curiosity.

 _Do you not remember? We search for the same thing. These last few weeks have been quite trying. I realized something. I realized that I had already found it and that I had already lost it. Perhaps such things were not meant for me._

Realization came to Malachi's eyes as he remembered the thing that Laputa had been searching for. He'd thought it was a passing fancy seeing as his pastimes were destroying the homes and families of so many. That was what Laputa wanted in the end—a place to call his own. "Perhaps you don't deserve it," Malachi said despite himself. He was supposed to be winning the other over to his side, but he knew that it would be better not to lie to him. Laputa would be able to sense that easily.

 _Perhaps I do not. But you are willing now. You are ready to accept me once again._

Malachi was still in complete and utter pain, but speaking with Laputa was just distracting enough to allow him to bear it. "I'd sworn you off completely, but…maybe I'm not as strong as I thought I was."

 _No. You are quite powerful and I am capable of bringing that forth. Most vessels perish within days of ridding themselves of my presence. Yet you held on. I have found my place. After so very long, I have found it. Once we are one again, we will never separate. Our bond will be eternal. I have decided that if you die, then I will die as well—I will seek no other vessel._

"And in your wake, you would destroy everyone who I care about? Someone like that won't last very long. It is unsustainable. Only someone as twisted as you would even attempt to live that way."

 _Then unwound my tangled reasoning. Show me what errors I have made._

"But you never listen to anyone, Laputa. Certainly not to me," Malachi said wearily.

 _I will listen this time. We are equals. When we became separated and I was myself once again, everything became so cold and so meaningless. I could not function. I need you, Malachi, just as much as you need me. I will make you strong again and we will become whole._

* * *

 **Malachi climbed to his feet easily and looked quickly around the old room.** "I see," he said to himself, "So they wished to destroy me here. It's too late for silly traps like these."

He shot through the roof of the place only to be met with a wall of saltwater before reaching the open air again in the sky. He hadn't exactly known what the trap had been, but he'd breached the ceiling and now water drained quickly from the roof and onto the ground. Within a second, he unleashed a ki blast that blew the place to smithereens—it was as if it had never been there in the first place. Laputa had spoken to Malachi mentally and once he knew his vessel was truly ready it took him no time at all to physically enter the room and combine. It was over in the snap of a finger.

He could sense others about and carefully he touched ground once again. He knew there must have been contingency plans, he just hadn't been privy to them. It didn't seem like Vegeta to bank so hard on one thing succeeding. Out of the surrounding trees first came Yamcha which came as a bit of a surprise to him.

"What are you doing here?" Malachi asked at once as he approached him. "For distraction purposes?"

"I'm not here to fight," Yamcha said, "I just came here to talk you down. Vegeta thinks I have some sway over you—and, you know, it's kinda hard to say 'no' to that guy. But seriously," Yamcha said looking closely at him, "Are you really 'him'? Are you actually Laputa, right now?"

"I'm Malachi," he said much to Yamcha's relief, but then he continued. "Perhaps not the very same Malachi you might know, but him nonetheless."

Yamcha's relief was short-lived. "H-Hey, you're not still thinking about…destroying Earth, r-right?"

His fear was palpable and Malachi found it amusing. "Give me a reason not to, human."

"B-Because, that would be really bad," Yamcha blurted out. Then he seemed to regain a modicum of confidence, "And the Malachi I know wouldn't want that."

"You're right," Malachi said closing his eyes briefly. " _I_ wouldn't. Yet somehow I remain unsatisfied. How about it, Yamcha—entertain me for a while." He moved into a combative stance, one that he'd learned from Vegeta long ago.

Yamcha held up his hands quickly in truce—his fear was back with a vengeance. "H-Hey, man. You know I don't do that stuff anymore."

"Then find me someone that does."

As if on cue, out stepped Majuub from the surrounding forest a little ways from where Yamcha had appeared. Malachi's attention was immediately on him. He was none too welcoming and thinking back on what he'd done to his village, Malachi was not surprised about this.

"Oh look, it's the little peon," Malachi mocked to the clearly angry man.

"What did you call me? Nevermind, don't answer. I'm going to enjoy tearing you to pieces."

Malachi chuckled at this. "You can certainly try. I've become far more powerful now, but if there's anything I've learned from living on this planet it is that human emotion is also a powerful weapon. Show me your anger, human. Entertain me."

Majuub didn't bother with the preliminaries. His pink aura raged around him instantly as his power level skyrocketed. He shot through the air towards Malachi within a split-second. Malachi quickly adjusted his own power to match the other's so that this little scuffle would be worth his time. His intention wasn't to maim the other, but to pass the time with something that he enjoyed doing.

For over a minute, the two of them swapped punches and kicks with one another. Majuub's anger was such that Malachi could feel it increasing with every blow that he struck. Malachi allowed the other a few hits to satisfy him—Majuub seemed ready to burst at the seams and Malachi took pity on him. Majuub eventually pushed the other away with his own growing aura as he cried out to the skies. His cries were deafening. It was only then that Malachi became worried. How deep did his well of anger go? Could he keep on like this forever? Then he realized that he would like that. He would like this to last for much, much longer.

Out of nowhere a pink beam came flying towards him and he instinctively dodged. It didn't stop there, however, more beams flew out and he continued to evade until he decided he might deflect one. That was when he was pummeled by a large blast from a place he knew Majuub had not been. He'd been thrown back quite a bit before shrugging it off.

"What the Hell do you think you're doing?!" Malachi heard Vegeta's voice yell out.

"Doing what you apparently _can't_ do," Majuub yelled back. "I turn him into chocolate and this can all be over right here, right now."

"I would not wish such a humiliating defeat upon even my worst enemy. It's dishonorable—I've always hated that move. Only a true weakling would stoop to such levels."

"You would say something like that," Majuub said with a huff. "You'd risk everyone's lives for your stupid pride—Goku would never put his friends into that position."

"Always going on about Kakarot," Vegeta said wearily, "He always toyed with his enemies, always feeling them out and taking his time to fight them. If he was really so concerned about everyone's safety—he would have ended each battle as efficiently as possible, but he didn't. He drew them out for as long as possible because in the end, he's a Saiyan and he thrived on combat and he was forever searching for his next challenging opponent. If you really want to honor your beloved 'Goku', you would stop ignoring my plan!"

"How many times are we going to do this?" Majuub asked. "When will you see that we only have one option?"

"You try that move again and see what happens," Vegeta said challengingly.

Malachi could tell that Majuub was none too happy about this. Perhaps that had been his plan all along. Vegeta had just saved his life. "I don't think I've ever heard of being turned into candy by a mere beam," he said interrupting the two and addressing Majuub exclusively. "But if that's what you were really doing, then I won't go easy on you anymore."

"Maybe you should just stand down," Majuub snapped at him. "You think Vegeta's going to be there to protect you every time? You fight me at your own risk."

"You've finally piqued my interest. Risk makes it all the more exciting," Malachi said back unperturbed by the other's threat. "Do me a favor, Vegeta, and stay out of this."

"Hmph, your funeral," Vegeta replied gruffly.

All he had to do was make sure he didn't get hit by one of his beams otherwise it would all be over. It was incredibly dangerous, yet he was bristling with anticipation. "Do your worst, human!"

Majuub shot towards him and engaged him once again in hand-to-hand combat. He was far more fervent and Malachi began to feel the increased force behind his attacks. Even when Malachi was no longer giving him moments in which he could strike, Majuub was still getting in a few hits. He'd struck him hard across the face and another at his chest, but Malachi recovered quickly and retaliated with more force. He was far from reaching his limit. Malachi still comfortably managed Majuub's frantic assault. They both naturally gave each other space after a little while of the same rigmarole. Majuub was quite a bit more worked up and he breathed a little harder than Malachi who floated confidently before him.

"Bastard! Is this all a game to you? Do you not even care about what you've done?"

"If you're asking if I lose any sleep over what I did to your village, no, I don't. But," Malachi continued as the other glowered at him, "I do regret it. It was uncalled for and there's no way to reverse what's done."

"What?" Majuub said clearly caught off guard by this.

"And if fighting me can ease your pain, then it's all the better. Fight me to your heart's content."

"Careful—that almost sounded like an apology."

"I wouldn't dream of doing that—knowing that it would never be enough in your eyes."

Majuub powered up again probably sensing that Malachi was not at all being put to the test. This time his attacks were more energy based. Malachi instantly became a bit warier knowing what the other was capable of. He hoped the pink energy beam was the only kind which had that strange chocolate property. He decided not to take the risk and evaded any sort of energy that came from Majuub pink or anything else besides. Soon Malachi found himself surrounded by strange waves of energy. He let his own energy flow out around him pushing the waves back before flying upwards. Majuub was crying out as he let his energy loose upon him still continually trying to capture him in its grips.

"I'll put an end to this swiftly," Malachi said calmly as he flew higher into the sky.

He turned towards Majuub instantly and threw out one massive ki blast that had enough surface area to take on everything beneath him. He enclosed himself in his own barrier of energy as he watched his blast touch down with minimal resistance.

It took a good minute for the cloud to disappear. Majuub hadn't stood up right away but he'd taken the blast head-on leaving him laid out for longer than usual. When he climbed back to his feet, he seemed ready for more. Majuub dashed towards him again, but this time he moved around him causing Malachi's initial attacks to completely miss the mark and conjured a Super Kamehameha as fast as possible. Malachi was able to evade in the nick of time. The nearness of the attack didn't sit well with Malachi.

He found Majuub again in the midst of conjuring another blast, but this time Malachi interrupted his efforts as he struck him squarely across the face. The force of his attack sent Majuub reeling and falling through the air. He followed him down allowing Majuub no time to recover as he sent forth another barrage of attacks. Though Majuub wasn't actually defending against his attacks at the moment, Malachi didn't care and continued his assault until he knocked him down forcefully into the ground while he was only inches away. He made sure Majuub ate dirt before pulling back.

If Majuub hadn't been angry before, he was certainly that now after that humiliating round. Pink energy never stopped raging around him. Then, much to Malachi's surprise, Majuub cried out in the rawest form of his agitated state and there had been nothing normal about it. Not only did it send chills down his back it also temporarily deafened him. The skies overhead began to darken and Malachi instinctively moved back. In an instant, Majuub shot into the sky and launched an intense wave of energy from both palms. Malachi, at first, didn't want to deal with such a blast, but he quickly realized that he couldn't let the attack hit ground—it would cut through the planet easily like a hot butter knife. Without a second thought, Malachi stood in it's line of trajectory and began the tedious process of sending it back through deflection.

It was more than what he had bargained for, but it was nothing he couldn't handle. He tapped into more of his power as it began to swirl around him. Then his eyes caught the jagged lines of the dreaded pink beam. The first of them were completely off the mark, but he knew the next would likely hit. With a roar, he sent the blast upward before moving out of the way completely just as a pink beam touched the very same area he'd just escaped.

"This ends here!" Majuub shouted, apparently still ready for more.

Malachi was making his way towards him as quickly as possible, but Majuub was just as quickly pulling away as he conjured yet another huge blast, but this time it was pink though he formed it in the same way one would a Kamehameha. Deciding to play it safe, he made it a point to evade. Malachi did not expect the blast to follow him, however. Malachi moved a bit faster, but it still followed him. At this point, Malachi was growing a bit wary of the attack—it was so very pink. An idea came to his mind as he was forced to continue to flee. He went around until he made it back to Majuub and when he moved at full speed towards him—the shock on his face was all he needed to confirm his suspicions. In a split-second decision, he took an alternate path, moved even faster still and finally got rid of the blast with one of his own at the same caliber causing a big explosion to go off not too far away from him. It was difficult to get out of the explosion's radius unscathed and this time a bit of Malachi's clothing was burnt off in the ruckus.

"Why did you do that!?" Majuub demanded from nearby. He'd made his way quickly to his position. "You had me within your sights—you could have just let the blast hit me."

"I could have," Malachi said with a grin, "You also could have gotten out of the way. Who knows? I wanted to end things on my terms. Besides, I think I like you better as a living, breathing person."

"Think you're going to score some pity points with me?" Majuub asked in utter irritation.

"I hope not. Twice now you've used that move—you won't like what I have in store for you."

"I don't scare easily," Majuub retorted.

"Good."

Now it was Malachi's turn to power up as his ki output increased tenfold. Wind swept around him and his grayish misty aura became a bit more attentive, raging in a unified formation around him. He almost ripped a hole through the particles in the air itself as he propelled his body towards Majuub. The physical assault he planned to dish out on Majuub would be relentless. His hands and feet moved almost mindlessly as he worked off of mere muscle memory. Majuub's retaliation was feeble at best as Malachi was easily able to shut him down time and again. Malachi landed many of his attacks and drew much blood before he finished with a knee to the guts and a dropkick to his exposed back.

Malachi slowly descended to where he knew Majuub had landed. Majuub wasn't exactly leaping back to his feet, but when he sensed Malachi nearby, he certainly tried to. He was in far worse condition than Malachi and he was breathing quite hard. Malachi was sure this wasn't lost on the other.

"How are you _this_ powerful?" Majuub exclaimed despite himself.

Malachi considered his question. "Perhaps I have an advantage over you. I am far more powerful than when we first fought."

"Of course that would be the case," Majuub replied in irritation. "Why would it be any other way?"

Malachi, noticing the other's poor condition and deciding that he was done fighting the other, sat down on the ground cross-legged.

"What are you doing?" Majuub asked, clearly agitated. "Aren't we—"

"Please, sit down. Take a breather. You look like you need it," Malachi said waving a dismissive hand.

Majuub looked as if he would argue, but at the last minute decided to take the other's invitation and he too joined him, sitting down. "This doesn't change anything," he said giving the other a hard look.

Majuub's defiance and utter distaste for the man was written plainly on his face. This still amused Malachi. "You fought quite well out there—better than before."

"And yet here you are completely fine after our little scuffle."

"Still, I noticed your improvements. You surprised me. I don't think I've ever seen another human as powerful as you are. What makes you so different from the others?"

Majuub considered the other's question. "They tell me I'm the reincarnation of an enemy that once threatened Earth's existence. Kid Buu. He forced Goku and Vegeta to work together in order to stop him and it took almost everything they had."

"Now that is quite a feat. I heard those two were like oil and water. It must follow then that you too could reach that level."

"I don't know—I don't think so. I can't even avenge my people and I've been training relentlessly ever since that time."

Malachi looked at the other thoughtfully. "Who was it that first trained you?"

"Goku. I met him at the tournament and he took me under his wing right away. I'd never met anyone like him before. He brought out the potential in me that I didn't know I had. He made me what I am today."

"You're the last person he trained?"

"Yes," Majuub confirmed.

"Then you have big shoes to fill. I've heard many great things about Goku—I can only imagine his training being one of a kind. Since he's now gone, you're the one who represents him."

"I've never thought of it like that before," Majuub said slowly, "I mean, he's trained others as well."

"And somehow I don't think those people are still into fighting. Show me, Majuub, the merits of being trained by the late Goku. Show me just how powerful you can become." Perhaps Majuub didn't need much encouragement to fight him, but he did, however, need encouragement in continuing to become stronger.

"Oh, I _will_ show you, Malachi. Just you wait. But," he began as another thought came to mind, but then he abandoned it. "Nevermind."

"Maybe one day if you ever reached my level, we could try using that fusion technique."

"Fuse? With you? I would never agree to that."

Malachi chuckled at that, "I'm sure Vegeta said the same thing to Goku and yet it still happened—more than once, I heard. Never say never as they say."

"Why would you even _want_ to? I'm just some poor villager and you're—well, you're Malachi."

"Huh, so you do recognize me," Malachi said in realization.

"Who doesn't?" Majuub said with a frown. "You'd have to really be living under a rock otherwise."

"Hm, well I don't care where you hail from, I don't care that you might hate my guts right now. I care only that you're human and about the fighting potential you have."

Majuub looked at him with slightly less anger. "That would be pretty cool if I didn't so desperately want to pound your face in. Two humans fusing? As far as I know, that's never happened before."

"And if you ever need help with anything—training or otherwise—you know where I am."

"I do," Majuub answered, "But I doubt I'll be knocking at your door anytime soon."

"About your village—"

"I don't want to hear it from you," Majuub said warningly.

Malachi continued unperturbed. "I was thinking of asking Dende to create another set of Dragon Balls. If he did it before, what's stopping him from doing it again?"

Majuub stared at him wide-eyed. "He'd never agree to it. Not if it's _you_ asking anyways."

"I see. Guess he's not a fan of me."

"Gee, I wonder why not?" Majuub retorted. "But…Maybe someone _could_ ask him. I don't think anyone's ever considered doing that. Do you really think it's possible?"

"I hope so, Majuub. I sincerely hope so."

The two of them looked up almost at once as they heard someone approaching—Vegeta.

"You two planning on _talking_ each other to death or what?" Vegeta said in his usual irritated tones.

"We're just having a little heart-to-heart," Malachi said as he climbed back to his feet.

"Speak for yourself," Majuub quipped though remaining seated.

Malachi noticed a passing of looks between Vegeta and Majuub and immediately he was on guard again. He still wasn't completely certain as to what was happening, but he felt that Vegeta was behind it.

"You seem different," Vegeta said.

"I am. As you can see, your planet stands totally intact and I've not made any advances towards changing that."

"Suddenly having second thoughts?" Vegeta said unconvinced, "What's so different now?"

"I don't want to destroy this place any longer. This is my home."

"Right. Who do you think you're fooling, Laputa?" Vegeta sneered. "You made your intentions clear long ago."

"I'm Malachi," he corrected the other, "And I don't see why my intentions must be so set in stone."

"You're not Malachi," Vegeta scoffed, "You've simply possessed him like the sycophant you are."

"I have his memories, his thoughts, his desires, how can you say that I'm _not_ him when I clearly am."

"You're a glorified parasite," Vegeta retorted, "And you're the reason he's even dying in the first place. You don't belong and I will make sure you get what's coming to you."

"That's where you're wrong, Vegeta. I _belong_ here. Malachi—the Malachi that you once knew—begged for my return."

"All a ruse," Vegeta interrupted him, "All part of the plan, but you knew that already. You say you have his memories. Surely, you must know what he was tasked with doing."

Malachi's eyes narrowed. "Yes, I know, but I also know his true thoughts on the matter. Without me, he would die—He might even be dead right now had I not intervened. I know that in the end, he was not ready for such things. I saved him."

"No, Laputa, you ruined him. Ask yourself why he was even in that condition to begin with? Why did he need to be so-called 'saved'? The very moment you possessed him, you endangered his life, hastened his death. Now you've somehow deluded yourself into thinking you're some sort of force for good. Enough of your games."

"Fine," Malachi said dismissively, "You always listened to fists more than words."

This was the moment that he'd been waiting for, but somehow he'd pictured it differently in his head. Vegeta seemed not to even be looking at him. He didn't acknowledge his existence. To him, he was not Malachi, but some repulsive imitation of the real thing. He knew that couldn't be right, however. He felt it somewhere deep down that he _was_ Malachi—a stronger, more improved version of him. He would just have to show Vegeta how wrong he was.

Their fight began in earnest. Vegeta didn't bother feeling out his opponent—he hit hard from the very beginning and Malachi had to readjust his approach to the battle. This was different from the friendly duels from before. Even as Malachi tried to physically block Vegeta's attacks, he was barely able to fend him off. Many times, Vegeta demolished his defenses and struck him head on. Vegeta drew blood easily and Malachi felt unable to return the favor. Malachi had yet to catch his stride and he was at the mercy of Vegeta's relentlessly fast pace.

Malachi had to push out quite a bit of energy just to get some breathing room and catch his bearings. Just as he did this, however, he felt a sharp sting on the side of his neck and immediately a strange weakness washed over him. He found himself falling without warning. He tried to regain flight, but it seemed impossible.

"W-What is this!?" Malachi cried out helplessly. Nothing would respond to him—his arms, legs, even his output of power felt numb and muted.

Then, as if he'd been thrown into a vat of hot lava, a deep pain began to reverberate throughout his body. He shrieked as he writhed uncontrollably on the ground. He couldn't stop himself and he knew he was making quite the scene, but that was the least of his worries. What he felt was inescapable and he could do little else in response besides allowing it all to happen. He couldn't figure out what was happening, just that it was. His voice became raw with overuse just as it began to ease off. He was drenched in sweat as he was finally able to lie still on the ground to slowly regulate his breathing. He felt his strength returning as well as glassy eyes stared blankly into the sky. Soon his view became obstructed by Vegeta's face who looked down at him with what could only be called concern.

"Malachi?" Vegeta asked at once, "Is it you?"

Malachi's eyebrows furrowed in confusion trying to figure out the best way to answer. "I _am_ Malachi—I've always been Malachi," he managed to say between breaths. His eyes widened when Vegeta held up a small yellow gun.

"I see you're being stubborn this time, Laputa—don't worry, I have plenty of rounds."

"No, please," Malachi pleaded as he tried to sit up enough to get away. He only made a mere few millimeters before he felt another sharp pang in his neck—he gathered it must have been a dart originating from the gun.

Malachi fell back helplessly as he once again went through the ordeal of swift and sudden, all-encompassing pain only to wound up exactly as he was now. His muscles were getting tired from all the spasms.

"Please, Vegeta…I don't know how much more I can take," he pleaded at Vegeta who still held the small gun as if to use it again.

"How are you able to withstand Bulma's antidote? Just how much are you clinging onto him?"

"I don't have to cling onto anything. The bond that was made is now permanent. There is nothing anyone can do to change that."

"You said that before," Vegeta growled, "And you were lying then too."

"This time," Malachi said as he struggled to sit up, "I'm not. I've never…bonded with someone twice before, but each time it happens it becomes stronger, much stronger."

"In other words, you have no idea if it's permanent or not—you just know it'd be harder the second time around. It's time to see just how 'strong' that bond really is."

"Please, Vegeta!" Malachi cried out pleadingly, "This—All this is unnecessary! I won't destroy your damn planet so why do you insist on continuing this torture?"

"Because the Malachi that I know would not want some imposter living his life and were the roles switched I would hope he would do the same for me."

Without further ado despite Malachi begging him not to, crying out pathetically now, Vegeta unloaded the rest of the darts on him releasing up to twenty doses of the antidote. Malachi felt each and every insertion into his skin all around his body. He tried to prepare himself, but he couldn't. No one could ever be ready to be drowned in a sea of blinding, lasting pain. It was something he'd never felt before and it was something he could never hope to fathom until that moment in which he experienced it. He felt himself rolling all over the ground wanting it all to just end—surely death was better than this. It became permanently stamped into his mind. Yet he was still alive, he realized. He could still breathe and now he could move once again. He was on his knees holding himself up by his arms. When he slowly looked up as he opened his eyes, he saw Vegeta standing there watching him.

"Bastard!" Malachi spat. Saliva fell from his lips as he spoke and his throat burned with the effort. "You won't—"

Malachi couldn't finish as he was interrupted by a small, quick ki blast from Vegeta. He hadn't even seen it happen, but he knew it must have been him. He was thrown backwards onto his back again. Then Malachi began laughing, finding the whole situation sad and ridiculous at the same time.

"Care to let me in on your little inside joke?" Vegeta asked cutting across his laughter.

"All that planning, all that work you must have put in and it still all goes to shit. _I'm_ still here and your silly gun did absolutely nothing." He sat up with a very audible grunt. "I didn't really want to hurt you until you did all this."

Vegeta threw the gun away. "I'm going to enjoy beating you to a bloody pulp."

When Vegeta said things like this, it always brought out a bit of fear from Malachi. That fear, however, was what made things exhilarating. He was grateful for that. He could barely even climb to his feet, but Vegeta didn't seem to care as he felt several more ki blast strike him, throwing him back even more. With a huff, he scrambled back to his feet only to be met with two more punches to each side of his face. There was a pause before another punch rammed into his guts and another and another. Malachi tried to block the other's next attack, but he couldn't see it coming and he missed it entirely as a kick flew into his side sent him flying again. Malachi caught himself and then moved far out of the way to avoid another round of attacks.

Malachi wasted no time gathering his energy around him. He would need much more strength now to take on Vegeta. The antidote had weakened him considerably. "Vegeta! I'll show you a good fight!" He cried out as his energy sprang forth and now he could feel it filling him with invincibility. For Vegeta, he would pull out all the stops and he decided to ascend. Unlike before, he was completely in control as he breached his limits and went further. His hair and eyes brightened and changed in coloring until he stood in midair calmly, now ready to face Vegeta head-on.

"Malachi worked quite hard to achieve that form," Vegeta said as he too moved into the air to reach his level. "And now you wear it so proudly as if it was your own."

"You're right, I did work hard for this, but as I was before I could not possibly hope to manage such a transformation. Now I can."

"Still—you're no match for me. You'll understand soon enough."

Vegeta powered up instantly into his Super Saiyan form and the two attacked each other almost simultaneously. Soon it became a light show of quick flashes across the skies. Ironically, Malachi had wanted to use this transformation so that he could face Laputa more effectively, but now he was using it in opposition to Vegeta. It was Laputa's presence which allowed him to finally wield the ascension with ease. As he fought Vegeta, he realized that this was what he had really wanted all along.

He was finally Vegeta's equal—it was no longer a pipe dream or a fantasy. He could take on and trade blows with his mentor and he could show him all that he'd learned since that day Vegeta decided to take a chance and train him. Vegeta's movements were swift and sure. He gave the impression that he could do this in his sleep. Combat was so much a part of his being that it came effortlessly. It had been difficult at first to keep up. Malachi had to trust himself a bit more and not think quite so long about what his next move should be. Right now, as he was fighting Vegeta, he felt his own technique improving the longer he stayed in tandem with him.

Right in the middle of all those fists and kicks, right when Malachi was just beginning to grow a little comfortable, Vegeta launched several ki blasts pointblank and Malachi had no time to dodge any of them except for the last one. Knowing that Vegeta would be on the offensive again, he held his arms close to him to block any body shots, but he was elbowed hard in the back. Spit came flying out of his mouth and he felt his bones caving under such tremendous force. Before Vegeta could strike again, he sidestepped, twirled about and launched a few ki blasts of his own. They all seemed to miss their mark. Then suddenly he felt a strong arm wrap around his throat. Malachi cried out as he brought forth a burst of energy all around him to avoid the inevitable crushing of his neck.

But Vegeta wouldn't let go despite how much ki he began to push forth. He felt someone else nearby—Krillen. His vision was just beginning to dim when he saw Krillen with a small, yellow gun. How many of those did they have? He simply couldn't deal with the prospect. In a surprising show of strength, he threw Vegeta back with his own aura and along with it the dart that had been flying his way.

"Is that all this is?" Malachi shouted. "You're going to keep doing this even when you know it doesn't work?"

Krillen stood in front of him now with the yellow gun pointed towards him. Malachi moved towards him slightly and Krillen immediately moved back as well. Malachi noticed the other's hand shaking ever so slightly.

"What are you waiting for, Krillen?" Vegeta shouted from behind.

Krillen let the first dart fly, but Malachi easily evaded. Then he advanced on Krillen if only to separate him from the gun. That was when Krillen started shooting recklessly and Malachi was forced to retreat. Determined, Malachi launched three consecutive ki blasts directly at Krillen, but Vegeta quickly stepped in and deflected them all. Malachi launched several more all of which met the same fate. Vegeta engaged the other once again in hand-to-hand combat. Malachi was a great deal wearier. He tried to keep Krillen within his sights, but the task became impossible in the wake of Vegeta's intensity. Vegeta had been able to get in quite a few hits and they were not ones Malachi could easily shrug off.

"What's wrong?" Vegeta taunted as he smashed a knee into his face causing blood to flow, "You seem distracted."

Though frustrated, Malachi didn't bother answering him and deflected Vegeta's next punch before dealing one of his own that he put quite a bit of force behind. He had to focus on Vegeta or be taken down easily by him. He'd certainly not be able to protect himself if that happened. His eyes kept looking about for Krillen's location which he was able to keep up with for the most part. Vegeta was relentless, however. He didn't give him much time to breathe or to think for that matter. Maybe that was the point.

"No tricks up your sleeves?" Vegeta taunted further as he was able to connect another hefty punch to the face and then two more kicks to his side, the last of which Malachi was able to block.

Then Vegeta grappled onto the cuff of his shirt with startling force. In the same moment, Malachi knew something was wrong, but before he could react, he felt another dart sink into his back. He tore away from Vegeta's grip with a flourish of his aura and turned to who he expected to be Krillen. Instead, his eyes came upon Pan who held the gun steadily. She wore a determined expression. Krillen was further away, but Malachi could see that the gun was no longer in his hands.

Malachi didn't feel the effects of the antidote as quickly as last time which concerned him more than the last. Was he immune or was something else happening? He conjured his aura protectively around him. There were too many of them. He was only one person and others weren't opposed to jumping into what was supposed to be a one-on-one fight. That was when he realized that this was not a true duel with Vegeta. He would have been visibly upset with their intrusion otherwise—this was all still part of the plan. Incensed, he powered up further.

This was all just a game to him. Vegeta's intentions were different from his. He needed to get rid of that gun and now Pan had it in her hands. She was more than capable of taking him on. He shot towards her, but was forced to quickly dodge when he felt another ki blast coming from ahead likely from Vegeta. Still he made his way towards her while evading the now numerous ki blasts in his path. Once he reached her position, she vanished from his view. Was she faster or was he getting slower? Losing patience, he began launching a constant string of ki blasts in hopes of keeping them away from him or even hitting them. Amid his storm of ki blasts, he cried out from the pure intensity of the activity. He'd never kept something like that up for so long, but he realized he was becoming desperate.

He thought he saw Pan there to the left and then to the right. Then he began seeing traces of Vegeta, but he was a lost cause in Malachi's mind. There was no way he'd be able to actually land a hit on the Super Saiyan. Pan was at least still in her first form. Then, all at once, the two of them were upon him. He received a nice kick to the side of his face and Pan threw a substantial ki blast downward upon him. Malachi barely evaded, but once he did he was back in Vegeta's strong hold, this time Malachi's arms were included. Malachi struggled against him, but it seemed to have even less effect.

Then he felt several more darts strike home.

"I don't know why you keep resisting, but it's starting to get on my nerves," Vegeta said as he released his hold on the other roughly and pushed him forward.

Malachi turned towards him. Vegeta stood in midair with crossed arms before him. Slowly, his image became more and more blurry.

"You've already lost," Pan said from above, "You're not even in your ascended form anymore. You can't take us both."

Malachi looked up towards her as well—her image becoming harder and harder to discern. Her expression was far more openly troubled. He hadn't even noticed that his ascension had ended, but he certainly felt the absence of his once vibrant energy.

"How much harder do you want to make things? If you really cared about Malachi, you would let go peacefully without all this fighting," Pan said.

"This," Malachi began slowly, "Was not a fair fight from the very beginning."

By the time he looked to Vegeta again, the Saiyan had his hand up gathering energy for another ki blast. There were a few things that Malachi could have done at that moment, but all at once his body became wracked with a terrible pain and he cried out piteously. His energy got away from him as it began spiraling outward in response to his physical trauma. An immense flow of energy poured out of him and he found himself in a dizzying whirlwind of ki. He felt himself drowning, losing grip on his own consciousness. All he could see around him was a wall of searing bright light. Eventually he blacked out.

* * *

 **He couldn't be sure how much time had passed or even if it had in the first place when he heard Laputa's voice. It sounded tired and weak.**

 _Malachi…Please…Malachi…_

"Yeah, I hear you," Malachi murmured. He felt his mouth moving, but he couldn't be sure where he was. Was he even alive or was he in some kind of limbo? The world around him was almost completely dark. Were his eyes open or closed?

 _I feel so tired…I'm sorry._

"Why are you—What are you apologizing for?"

 _That I put you in so much danger. I promised I would protect you._

"Tch, I don't need protection."

 _I see that now. That's what I like about you…my favorite vessel. My presence keeps your body alive and I would like to see you live. I'm sorry, but I am also thankful. For a short time…for a small fleeting time, I felt accepted._

"What are you saying, Laputa? You always speak in riddles."

 _When I'm with you, I feel complete. Do you not feel that way as well?_

"I…well, it's just me and you, isn't it?" he said with a sigh. "You bring out a side of me that I always try to hide and bury. It feels exhilarating—a dark fantasy. I can then hide behind you and blame you, absolving myself despite knowing that I liked every bit of it. I wanted to destroy you because perhaps with your destruction, my own demons would also disappear. With you, Laputa, I do feel complete. But that is dangerous. I hate even to admit it."

 _I knew those things already. It is nothing to be ashamed of. With you, I have found a home. I know that you have found one as well. You've found a family which you can call your own and it warms your heart._

"It does…more than anything else. Well, almost anything else."

 _Music._

"Always that."

 _I will leave you to your life, young one, as I have no desire to live it for you. I am very…exhausted. I think I will rest now._

"Laputa?"

… _For an eternity. It has been a long time since I've felt safe enough to do so, but…now is different. Do me a favor and leave me be from now on._

The world truly did become dark around him. He wondered about his own fate and if he too might fall into an eternal rest. If so, then perhaps it wouldn't be so bad.


	49. Love and Family

AN: Happy News Years!

* * *

 **Marron sat in her car quietly waiting for night.** This had become a ritual of hers over the past few weeks. The parking lot had a nice view of the ocean and she would make sure she parked the closest to it. Usually, the temperature would be just right, but tonight was a bit nippy as she sat in her car with her driver's side door open gazing out to the calming sea.

She needed this, an excuse to leave the house and reflect on her day. Very rarely did she have the luxury of listening to her own thoughts. Each passing day became harder and harder to wake up with any sort of enthusiasm. This day had been particularly difficult. She breathed in and out deeply as the wind brushed over her weary features. She wore her blonde hair in a messy bun and tendrils of hair fell down loosely in the front uneven with the rest of her hair. No matter how hard she tried to brush her hair to make it appear orderly, strands would always escape in the front and in the back. She was overdue for a trim.

Night time was perfect for what she planned to do. Her car sat in front of a colossal building. It was the biggest hospital on this side of the continent. Well established and long lived, only those of high society could afford its care. It boasted the friendliest of staff and a breathtaking scenery as it sat near the ocean and exotic gardens were maintained on its vast property. This was where Malachi, perhaps one of the most well-known people in the world, was currently housed. Marron preferred this time out of all others to visit him because it was less likely that she'd run into someone she knew. Pan visited on a daily basis, but strangely enough Bra visited far less frequently. It must have been difficult seeing him as he was—unmoving and unresponsive. He was in a coma and had been for what was now nearing three months. Marron had noted quite the assortment of people coming to visit Malachi and not all of who she knew very well. Most notably was Master Roshi and Gohan—neither of who had anything to do with Malachi. But Marron supposed Malachi's influence was far-reaching. Since she'd decided to start coming in the late hours of the day, she hadn't seen everyone who had stopped by, but she wouldn't be surprised if everyone she knew from Pan's and Bra's family to outliers like Yamcha and Tien had done so at some point.

Marron wasn't particularly fascinated with Malachi, but she understood that her friend was quite affected by the whole thing. Pan had told her the details of what had been happening thus far. She was apart from it, however. She walked her own path and only dabbled briefly in the strange existence of aliens and extraterrestrial threats that Earth faced at fairly frequent intervals. Her world was far less complex and harrowing for that matter. Her mother and father doted on her and she'd lived a pleasant life of normalcy.

She stepped out of the car, closing the door behind her. With an easy gait, she made her way to the front entrance and made her way to the twenty-third floor. Malachi being of notable high profile and in an attempt to maintain his privacy, he was given an entire floor in which to recover without the constant hassling of prying eyes. Only a few select nurses and doctors could enter at any given time. A list of friends and families which had already been on file was also allowed. She'd been on the list too much to her surprise. She'd had minimal contact with Malachi, but she was likely listed due to her association with Pan and Bra.

A burly security guard allowed her entrance after confirming her identity. She took her time walking down the expansive hall noting the large paintings that lined the walls along with the exotic plants that filled the air with its soft, subtle scent. There was a smell of freshness that Marron simply adored. It was almost enough to convince her to start her own garden—almost. She could hardly take anymore stress in her life and maintaining plants could become one of them.

The double doors to Malachi's room was open as it always was. One had a good view of the person inside the moment they stood in front of it. Fresh smells of clean linen wafted from the room every time she stepped through the doorway. The room itself was spacious with a good view of the ocean beyond. A comfortable reclining chair sat next to the bed along with a few more elsewhere in the room. Malachi laid upon green and white sheets with two different IVs hooked up along with a monitor keeping track of his vitals. The sheets covered him up to his neck.

All was quiet. Malachi certainly wouldn't be speaking. Though his eyes were closed, he always seemed poised to open them, at least in her opinion. Since he couldn't respond to her, she could pretend he was whoever she wanted him to be. What she preferred the most was a good listener. Malachi was now the very epitome of such a person. This was why she waited so late to visit. No one would be there to interrupt her sweet silence and "Malachi" would listen and never interrupt whatever she had to say. Marron sat back comfortably in the chair beside the large, plush hospital cot.

In her usual habit, she would disclose to him how her day had gone. She'd go into extra details taking her time to tell him a complete walkthrough. She always felt much better after doing so. There were no repercussions and no need to worry about it all getting out to other people. This night was a little different. After pouring her heart out to the stranger, she began to speak on the many things that made her frustrated and sad. Once she got started, she couldn't stop.

All that hate, all that misery poured from her heart and cleansed her mind as well as her body. She felt pure again if only for a short time. Then she'd do the thing she would do only when she was in this state of peace—she sang. She didn't always have specific songs to recite. She sufficed with making up her own words. In front of other people, she'd never be able to do something so random, but on her own with no one watching, she was liable to do almost anything.

She sang out loud for hours before calling it quits. Her eyes were a bit watery from her own singing. It felt exhilarating being made to feel so vulnerable and nothing would come of it. No one would have an opinion or use it against her. Nearing the end of her stay, she glanced over at Malachi, finished with all that she'd wanted to say and do. She always had to reaffirm that he was still just lying there.

Only this time was different. Her breath caught in her throat and a shiver went down her back—his eyes were open. How long had it been that way? Had he heard her? They were unblinking eyes, but it was enough to send her running out the door calling for a doctor or a nurse. Malachi had awakened.

It didn't take much to bring attention to several nurses and one of the doctors on staff that night. Marron expected to slip out to her car as they took care of him and made all the necessary calls, but she was asked to stay. The doctor specifically asked that of her and she was hard-pressed to deny him. She certainly didn't want to be the reason that anything adverse happened to Malachi—Bra would kill her.

"He'll respond more to those he knows than a stranger like me," the doctor explained. "I need to understand his level of consciousness."

Marron turned to the doctor with nervous eyes. "Well, um, h-he doesn't know me that well."

"I'm sure he knows you better than me."

"We're just acquaintances really. I've never really met him—or not really, really met him."

"It's alright," the doctor said reassuringly, "You don't have to be nervous. I know all this must be a little startling. I've had the immediate family called and I'm sure they're on their way, but they do live almost an hour away. If you'd rather leave, that's fine, but you are the first person he's seen and usually that's pretty significant. See if you—"

"He's looking at me," Marron said in surprise. As the doctor had been speaking, she'd glanced over at Malachi only to find him gazing at her exclusively. "What do I do? He's looking at me."

Marron did not like being stared at; she didn't like being put on the spot. She'd come here because it was peaceful, now it was nothing but. It wasn't an intense stare. Instead, he wore a blank expression and she got the impression that he may not be entirely aware of her or what was happening around him.

"See if he might respond to some physical stimuli," the doctor encouraged her.

"What?" Marron asked looking towards the man, not liking the sound of what he was asking.

"Touch his hand," the doctor clarified, giving her a more concrete activity.

"A-Alright," Marron said as she finally stepped closer to the bed.

He never once looked away from her. His eyes followed her. She wanted to tell him that it was quite rude to stare, but she supposed such sentiments would be lost on him. She reached out cautiously, moving the sheets away from his arm, before placing a tentative hand over his. Nothing happened and she was beginning to feel a bit self-conscious. Why couldn't Bra or anyone else be here? Why did it have to be her?

"How about placing your hand into his," the doctor encouraged.

Marron sighed and then did as the doctor suggested. She noticed that his hand was not nearly as baby soft as she had assumed. Surely someone as richly as Malachi could have an army of maids do everything for him. Instead, his hand felt normal. There was nothing special about it, nothing that indicated anything earthshattering.

"Give it a little squeeze," the doctor said further.

Marron couldn't wait for this to be over with. She applied some light pressure. Then, much to her surprise, she received the same small grasp in kind. She ripped her hand back in astonishment. "He moved…Happy now, doctor?"

"This is good. This is _very_ good," the doctor said good-naturedly, "There's some more things we need to check, but rest easy—I'll have others do it and his family should be here soon. Thank you for the help. Now we know his recovery is moving in the right direction."

When she glanced back over at Malachi, she noticed that he was looking elsewhere. A nurse must have caught his attention. She breathed a sigh of relief—at least he wasn't fixated on her anymore.

"Is this how it's really like waking up from a coma? I thought people just…woke up," Marron asked curiously to the doctor.

"That's just in the movies," the doctor explained evenly. "I doubt he'll be leaping out of bed or twirling around on stage for some time. Some recover quickly, some require more help. Only time will tell."

She felt eyes on her again and it was Malachi much to her annoyance. Dark eyes watched her as if she was the most fascinating thing in the world. It was all a bit much for her. "Go look at someone else."

The doctor chuckled. "You must have made quite the impression on him."

"I hope not," Marron said turning with a frown. "Bra's going to be ecstatic about all of this. I can already see her now. I'd like not to be here when that happens."

Marron made a hasty retreat to her car. Her sanctuary had been thoroughly ruined. She no longer had any real excuse to leave the house. She'd have to waste time coming up with a different one. She sat quietly in her car with her mind wondering over what had just occurred along with the terrible train wreck of a day she was sure to experience tomorrow. She gazed at gently crashing waves of the ocean before turning on her car and making her way back home.

* * *

 _ **A Few Days Later:**_

It had been a long time since Bra had been in a good mood. After living for too long waiting for the death of the one who she loved, it never happened. Surely this was the work of a miracle. Days after Malachi had fallen unconscious, her mother did her own check-up on him. She'd reported that Malachi's condition had improved at least so far as death being imminent. Laputa was still present within him, but he was dormant—his DNA was not being expressed as it had been before. It was his presence that seemed to fix the ailments that Malachi had been experiencing before. The only bad news was that he had fallen into a coma. Bra and Bulma alike had expected him to recover from this quickly, but as time wore on it became less and less likely. They were forced to bring him to a hospital that could better care for him—her own facilities at home was not equipped to take care of a longtime comatose patient and no one was qualified to take care of one. That fateful call from the doctor in the middle of the night informing her that he had awakened was the best news in the world. She rushed to his side without a second thought. All the days before slowly eating into her sanity were long forgotten.

Bra was glad to be able to hold him in her arms as she had in the past and to have his presence nearby. Home had become a far quieter, lonesome place without him. Jensen had grated on her nerves far more easily and Machi's incessant crying made her sometimes reconsider being a mother in the first place. Yet with Malachi by her side—those issues became bearable and, in fact, hardly noticeable. She knew, however, that it was only her mind playing tricks on her. She'd gotten used to having Malachi around—his sudden departure had completely upset everything in her life and she hated going to bed alone.

Malachi was home, but he was not himself and Bra knew this from the very moment the doctor okayed him to come home. He was not out of the woods yet and still needed time to recover what was lost. He could do the most rudimentary of activities, he could speak simple words, but complex, deep thoughts seemed beyond him at this point. The doctor predicted this would improve so long as he kept up with his medicine. He warned, however, that though the chances were low for this, he may not ever recover completely. Bra hoped that this wouldn't be the case for Malachi. They'd been through so much together and she liked him exactly the way he had been. She was willing to help him through this if it meant that things would eventually return to normal. She had to believe that it would no matter what.

She had to get him doing things like he had in the past especially the things that he liked doing. Perhaps this would jog his memory faster or at the very least, his sense of self. After putting Machi to sleep with soft string music playing in the background, she climbed downstairs to see what Malachi had gotten himself into. It was a bit like taking care of yet another child…

"No—not like that! Are you stupid or something? I keep telling you, you can't put pieces together like that!" Jensen's loud voice said in frustration.

"Sorry," Malachi answered singularly.

Bra's footsteps quickened at the sound of this conversation, her eyebrows already furrowed in frustration. "Jensen, I heard you—you can't talk to your father that way. Apologize," Bra ordered the high-strung child.

"But he keeps putting the piece in wrong _over and over again_. I came downstairs and he just messed up everything! I had to start from scratch."

"I don't care. You will show him some respect. Now apologize," Bra said stonily.

Jensen gave her a look of annoyance before turning towards Malachi. He currently sat on the living room couch seemingly unperturbed by Jensen. His attention was on puzzle pieces as he idly slid random pieces closer together. Even Bra wasn't entirely certain what his intentions were.

"Sorry for yelling at you," Jensen said as he rolled his eyes.

"Better, Jensen—I saw that," Bra insisted.

Jensen sighed, first glancing at her and then at Malachi who didn't appear to be listening to him at all. "Sorry for yelling at you."

"And?" Bra said edging the other to say more.

"What?" Jensen asked confused.

"Tell him you're sorry for calling him names," Bra replied with crossed arms.

"But he _is_ —"

"Don't say it again," Bra warned, "Or you won't like what I do."

Jensen looked at Malachi once again. "Daddy?"

This time Malachi acknowledged him as he looked at him fully.

"Sorry for calling you names and yelling at you," Jensen said quickly.

Malachi gazed at Jensen silently for almost an entire minute. His head tilted slightly to the right as if to really give his words some thought. "Why?" he asked slowly. "Why apologize?"

It always became a bit like a game when Malachi spoke sometimes. What was he really trying to say? Jensen seemed to be good at it. " 'Cus Bra told me to."

"Okay," Malachi said simply before returning his attention to the table.

Jensen sighed exasperatedly as he watched the other's antics with the loose pieces on the table. "Now what are you doing?"

"Making a puzzle," he answered as if it made all the sense in the world.

"But they don't even go together. You're not even _putting_ them together. It's just a rando group of pieces."

"You make your puzzle. I make mine."

"Ugh…Daddy," Jensen whined. "See, look what I'm doing. Watch me," he said putting on a faux-teacher tone. Jensen held up a small cardboard piece and then placed it where it fit within the puzzle. "See how it _fits_ perfectly. You don't have to force anything. If you're forcing something, then it's wrong. It just slides in place. Got it? Do you understand?"

Malachi nodded slowly. "Yes."

"You said that last time. Show me."

Malachi lifted up a piece far too quickly and then proceeded to dropping it in an arbitrary spot. "No…forcing. Fits…somehow?"

Jensen ran a hand down his face. "I give up."

"Jensen, how about you stop trying to get your father to do things he's clearly not ready to do?" Bra asked stepping in. This session was not going anywhere. She'd let it go on this long because she knew this was something that he liked to do, but he simply was not cut out for this right now. "How would you like it if my mom came down and demanded that you solve, I don't know, a differential equation?"

"What's a different-y equation?" Jensen asked puzzled.

"See what I mean? It's not fair."

"But he _knows_ how to do puzzles. I've seen him do it all the time. I was just…trying to help."

"I know, but this is too much."

"Sorry," Malachi said again, but this time to no one in particular. He'd ceased any attempts at doing the puzzle.

"No, honey, don't apologize, okay?" Bra said stepping closer and turning his face towards her. "No apologies for this, okay?"

"Okay," he replied simply.

"Did you eat yet, Malachi?" she asked.

He shook his head no slowly.

"Alright, come on. Stand up. Follow me."

She gave him simple instructions for him to follow and in this case, like most others, he obediently did as she told him. In that way, he was a step above a child who often took some convincing to have them do things correctly and without argument.

"What is your name?" Bra quizzed him as she did every day, hoping that this would get his mind working again.

"Malachi," he answered without pause.

"Good. Now, how old are you?"

"Twenty-seven," he replied in record time.

"How old am I?"

Malachi took a moment before answering. This one differed from her usual questions. "Twenty-three."

"Good, even better. Now what is it you like to do?" They'd made it to the kitchen now and Bra was now parsing through the refrigerator trying to find something not too difficult to make for him. She knew something was wrong when he was silent for too long. "C'mon, Malachi," she encouraged without looking back at him. "What is it you like to do?"

"Cooking," he said finally in his usual friendly tone.

Bra took out a jug of milk, deciding that cereal would have to suffice. She looked at Malachi who was now leaning back against the kitchen's entrance. It was a stance she'd seen him do many times before and it was something she'd not told him to do. She smiled despite himself. He smiled back. He always did so when she did this—it was quite endearing, but certainly not something that had been a habit of his in the past.

"What else?" Bra inquired further. "Cooking can't be all you like to do."

This time it took him much longer to answer as she grabbed a bowl and some cornflakes and brought them out to the dining room table. She didn't want to overwhelm him with too many tasks so she fixed up the cereal and presented it to him at the table. Without asking, he sat down to partake in it.

"Shopping," he said as his eyes took in the bowl of cereal.

"Oh, you do?" Bra asked as if she hadn't known this fact before. "Me too. Looks like we have something in common."

"We do, but more than just that," Malachi answered. He took a bite of the cereal.

Bra was a bit surprised by his response as it was something that required some extra thought. "What other things do we have in common?" she asked, changing gears.

"I don't know," he answered simply, much to her annoyance.

It had been a dead end unfortunately. "Now what else do you like to do?"

There was another pause as he appeared to consider her question. "Singing," he said after taking two more bites of the cereal.

"Well, that's a given, right?"

He didn't respond to this so she wasn't sure if this was the case or not as he continued on the bowl in front of him. She'd thought she'd lost him again and would have to think up something else to say when he spoke once again.

"Music," he said without looking at her. "Hearing it from others. Just like that woman."

Bra's eyebrows furrowed a little. "What woman?"

He answered without hesitation. "The woman who sang to me."

"Gotta' be way more specific," Bra said. She already didn't like him speaking about other women in front of her and usually he was far more tactful about such things, but she calmed herself knowing that it was something she had to work on. Jealousy was a hard thing to curb especially when it came to Malachi who was quite easy on the eyes, famous, and tried to outwardly appear open and friendly per his public persona. She imagined Malachi must have had many other girlfriends before her, but she did not like think of such things.

"A woman," Malachi repeated. He paused as he thought further on the topic. "I can't remember her, but her voice was quite lovely. I wish I knew."

"Was _she_ lovely?" Bra asked, trying but failing to manage her jealousy.

"I don't know," he said slowly. "Her voice is lovely."

"When did she sing to you?" Bra asked. "Was it recent?"

"Yes," he confirmed, "Recent."

"Hm," Bra said thoughtfully, "But not here, right? Not at the house."

He shook his head, "No, not at the house."

"Well," Bra said with a shrug, "I have no idea what you're talking about. Maybe you were just hearing things."

"Maybe," he said uncertainly.

"Maybe you imagined you were listening to a song and you just can't place what the song was."

"Maybe," he repeated, but with even less certainty.

It seemed, however, that he was no longer concerned with it as he continued on his cereal finishing it off in record time.

"I have an important question for you," Bra said as she watched him finish.

"Yes?" he asked. His eyes were on her now with singular, exclusive attention on her.

She smiled at him. "Do you love me?"

"Yes," he said without hesitation, a smile already coming to his lips, "Very much."

It wasn't often that she received such a bright smile from him, but it was already putting her into a far better mood. She stood up and he did as well without having to be told. She came to stand in front of him.

"I'm glad that hasn't changed," she said looking up at him—he'd always been a few inches taller than her. Sometimes, it was easy to forget that he was fairly tall as he was often leaning somewhere or sitting down. He tended not to draw attention to it.

His expression was slightly perplexed, "Never question," he said as if it was obvious, perhaps it was.

She leaned in to him and he responded in kind until they were kissing—none of which Bra had to specifically ask. One thing simply led to another. She believed him more when he said those things to her. She didn't have to wonder if he was just saying things to make her happy—such forethought was impossible for him at this stage. Though she didn't want him to remain this way, it was comforting nonetheless. Malachi, who was often a puzzle to try and figure out, was now nothing but. She could read him easily and persuade him to do things with a simple suggestion.

They pulled away almost at the same time. A smile still graced her lips. "What do you want to do today?"

"I don't know," he answered after a small pause.

"Oh, c'mon, Malachi. Give it some thought. We can do anything you want today. Maybe there's something you really wanted to do and you never got around to doing it. Maybe there's a place you really want to see."

"Why not you decide?" he asked quizzically.

"Because that's not how this works. You have to decide. You have to make decisions."

Though his puzzled expression suggested that he didn't quite understand her reasoning, he made no further comment on this point and did as she asked. Bra sighed as he seemed to take forever to come up with something. She knew this would be the case, but that didn't mean that she had to _like_ waiting for him. He had a partially fisted hand held up to his mouth as he looked into the distance with an absent expression. This went on for nearly five minutes. She sighed loudly at this point, drawing his attention again.

"Jensen," he said finally. "Phone."

"Yes? Jensen. Phone. What are you saying? Connect them."

"Jensen _wants_ a phone," Malachi clarified.

"Yeah? Jensen wants a lot of things, but you know we can't just be giving him things so easily like that."

"Why not?" Malachi asked.

" 'Cus then we'd be spoiling him and spoiling him is bad. He's already getting out of hand. Did you see how he was talking to you earlier? No respect."

"He was right," Malachi said looking away from her. "I didn't understand. I know I didn't understand. I couldn't…But—So that's why he's frustrated. He's not bad."

"No, no," Bra said, "He's not _bad_ , but we shouldn't reward him with a cellphone."

"He keeps using mine. Annoying."

Bra sighed exasperatedly, "The answer's no. We're not getting him a new phone."

Malachi looked at her perplexed and Bra assumed that he simply wasn't fond of being denied. "Trust me—he doesn't need one."

"No," he said before she continued. "How to convince you?"

Bra grinned at him. "You can't convince me, Malachi. Don't wrack your brain too hard."

"Bra…" he said slowly. "Did you have a phone when you were younger?"

"Yeah," Bra said with a shrug, "Mom insisted that I have one pretty early on. I think—I think I've always had a phone actually. Can't even imagine when I didn't."

"I didn't," Malachi said. "Not until I was an adult. Quint wouldn't allow it. Too much distraction. I always thought that was stupid."

"Okay, that's pretty shitty, but Jensen isn't you."

"He's my child. He should have a phone whether he's good or bad. Then I won't have to worry about him and he won't take my phone all the time. We don't get him much. I'm sure he notices. He notices a lot of things. Clothes because others like shopping and he happens to be around. Puzzles because Bulma pitied him. That's it. Machi has so much more given to her out of love. You always say 'Don't spoil him, he's doing bad' every time I suggest getting him something. Why?"

Bra was quite surprised, first of all, that he had spoken so much at one time and quite coherently, but she did not like what he was talking about. Jensen often didn't listen to her whenever she asked him to do something, but he only did it when others weren't looking. It always felt like he acted rude to her far more than Malachi or anyone else.

"Because he's being bad—to me. And that shouldn't be rewarded."

"You were…always nice to your parents? Never thought your father overbearing? Never argued with your mom?"

"Malachi, you can't equate that stuff to this. Everyone has a rebellious stage, maybe I argued a bit when I was younger, but I respected my parents."

"Does he not respect you?" Malachi asked.

"I mean, I wouldn't go that far, but he definitely doesn't like me."

"He notices things," Malachi said slowly.

"Yeah, you said that before. What does that mean?"

"If you don't like him, then he won't like you."

Bra looked at him almost speechless, caught off guard by his accusation. "I don't _hate_ him, if that's what you're getting at. I mean, you haven't been all that nice to him—don't think I didn't notice how you were treating him. Don't try to act all 'saintly' now."

"That's different—"

"How?" Bra interrupted him. She spoke without thinking. Immediately, she regretted sabotaging his flow of thought as he was now utterly confused.

He frowned, but it wasn't towards her. He'd looked away from her and then moved towards the table they'd just been sitting at. He leaned forward against it with his hands. "W-Where…" he started uncertainly. "Do we go."

"Malachi," Bra said with concern, coming to his side. "What are you trying to say?"

"I don't know…" he said shaking his head slowly, "I don't know…"

"C'mon," Bra said tapping his shoulder, "We should go somewhere. I'll get Jensen and Machi and we can all go to the park."

Malachi didn't reply immediately, but eventually he looked up at her. All trouble had left his countenance. "Okay," he replied simply.

She managed a smile for him to hide her frustration. She'd wanted to know what he was going to say. How was it different? What point had he been trying to make? She knew she'd be pondering these things for the rest of the day. As she thought about Jensen, she wondered about her own conduct towards him, she wondered how she really felt about him. Did they even have a real connection other than happening to live in the same house for so long?

Bra began getting things together for their apparent outing. Though she hadn't expected to take Jensen and Machi along, she realized that they'd hardly gone out together as a family. Jensen often tagged along with Bulma or Vegeta and Bra always took Machi along with her while Malachi was just doing his own thing. Today, may well be the beginning of a new thing. She wondered if this would further confuse Malachi as it was something that wasn't routine, but he seemed completely fine with her idea. Then again, he seemed completely fine with most things these days.

Jensen became a bouncy ball of energy once Bra informed him of what they'd be doing. She could hardly get him to sit still. Were it not for her asking Malachi to get him ready, she doubt they'd even get out the house in a reasonable amount of time. Jensen was Malachi's burden—she could take care of Machi all on her own.

Eventually, they all climbed into Bra's car and took off to the nearest park. She had no intentions of driving for an hour trying to get to the larger park and settled with one that would do fairly well for Jensen's purposes. There were times when Bra couldn't decide whether Jensen should be treated like a child or an adolescent, but the fact that he was clearly excited for the prospects of a simple playground let her know that he may not be nearly as mature as she first thought. Jensen was talking a mile a minute. Though Malachi wasn't always able to keep up with him, he always had something to say so in this way, he kept Jensen preoccupied without her having to say a word. Machi was in a good mood as well, strapped securely to the carrier. Bra was the driver and Jensen sat beside her in the front only because Malachi knew it was his favorite seat and he didn't mind sitting in the back. Still, it was a little awkward, in her opinion, to not have the two adults sitting in the front, but she hadn't felt like pushing the issue. Malachi sat in the back with Machi. He was forever messing around with Machi, tickling her and playing small, simple games with her. The car was filled with either Machi giggling or Jensen carrying on about one thing or another. Malachi hadn't even requested that she turn on some music. It seemed once he was occupied with one or two things, he was thoroughly distracted and was hard-pressed to consider anything else.

It was the weekend. Bra expected there to be plenty of children for Jensen to play with. Once they got there, however, she noticed the playground was quiet. Bra parked the car and they all made the long trek to the playground which was further in. Bra took care of Machi, placing her into the stroller and then leading the way for the others.

"I don't think I've been to this one before," Jensen said aloud to no one in particular.

"That's because I haven't taken you to this one before," Bra said. "Mom comes out here to jog sometimes."

"I don't remember this either," Malachi said. He seemed more concerned with the surrounding as he looked about at all the greenery.

"You'd never have a reason to come here," Bra reminded him.

"It's beautiful," he said with quiet conviction. He currently walked a little ways behind her gazing in wonderment at the scenery.

"It's just trees," Jensen said matter-of-factly with a shrug.

"Jensen," Bra said warningly to the child. "Watch your tone."

The child walked in front of all of them despite not knowing exactly where to go. As she said this, he glanced behind himself at Bra with an annoyed look. She returned this with a challenging glare.

"It is," Malachi said, agreeing with Jensen, "But there's not many in the city—just cars, buildings and streets."

"I never took you as an outside kind of guy," Bra said, noticing his fascination.

"I'm not, but this is nice all the same," Malachi replied.

It was one of the quickest replies Bra had gotten from Malachi—she smiled to herself.

"I just want to get there already," Jensen said impatiently, "Who puts their playgrounds so far in the back?"

"They did it just to annoy you," Bra quipped. "I think this is a good distance away from all that sound of traffic. It's just up ahead anyway."

"You've been here before?" Jensen asked.

"Many times as a little girl. It's small and quiet."

She hadn't realized that she'd never taken any of them out here before despite this being a place where her mother used to take her. It had been awhile, in fact, since she'd stepped foot out here preferring either the city or the manor to fulfill all her daily needs. As soon as the playground came into view, Jensen was already racing off much to her annoyance. Her mother would never have let her go off alone like that. When she tried to call out to him, Malachi stopped her.

"Let him go," Malachi insisted, "It's right there."

"Fine," Bra said with a huff, "If he gets lost, I'm blaming you."

"I can still see him," Malachi said with a confused look.

"Nevermind, let's just get over to these benches."

There weren't many benches beside the playground and the closest one was already occupied with two women. They seemed a bit young—too young for her liking. She didn't want to end up conversing with them while Malachi was with her. He was in no way disguised and she wasn't sure if she could take it if they started flirting in any sort of capacity. She chose another bench that was off to the side a bit. The playground was still in sight and they could have their privacy.

Bra took a seat and Malachi promptly sat beside her. She noticed that there was only one other child out today who happened to be a girl. Still Jensen wasted no time introducing himself—it was a gift of his, she supposed. He was mostly unabashed and felt that he had to introduce himself to every other kid who made eye contact with him. He also seemed to prefer the company of girls over boys. If he had a choice in the matter, he'd often pursue the girl rather than the boy—it was an odd little habit of his. With Jensen, however, he was simply an odd child and Bra already had a laundry list of things that he did that she didn't think other little boys did.

She sighed as she looked over the stroller at Machi who seemed on the verge of falling asleep once again. She realized something as she sat back on the bench—Malachi had never accompanied her on such trips before. He was always busy or simply not around to ask him to join her. Now he sat quietly watching the two children run amok on the playground.

"Malachi?" Bra asked innocently as she looked over at him—he appeared quite serene. "You're not bored, are you?"

He looked at her curiously, "No. Should I be?"

"I don't know," she said shaking her head. "It's just—we never do things like this. I always thought it was because you thought it was, well, boring."

He looked at her pensively now. "I'm spending time with you. You're the one who always gets bored."

"Me?" Bra asked incredulously. "How do you figure?"

"Remember before every time I came to take you out?"

"You mean a date?"

"Yeah," he said with a smile, "You always said 'This better not be boring or else I'm going home'. I didn't want you to leave so I always planned ahead. A park would be boring, I thought. You wouldn't want to just walk around somewhere—so I never tried to."

"That's just you assuming things—you kind of went above and beyond, you know. When I said that, I just meant I wanted you to pay attention to me; that's all. Most guys don't even get _that_ part right."

"In that case, I totally misread things."

"But Malachi, you're supposed to be the expert in all things women," Bra said with a teasing smile. "Actually, for a long time, I thought you were. Now I think I was just dating shitty guys."

"You were," Malachi agreed wholeheartedly.

"Hey, don't agree so enthusiastically!" she said with a laugh. "Wait a minute, how do you know who I was dating—you ever meet them?"

Malachi smiled briefly, "I've met a couple of your exes."

"What?!" Bra said a bit too loudly. She glanced over at the other two women to make sure they hadn't been alerted—they hadn't.

"I ran into them once when I was clothes shopping another when I was food shopping."

Malachi seemed infuriatingly unconcerned with this. She couldn't tell if this could be attributed to his state of being at this point or if he genuinely didn't care about it. "B-But when did that happen?"

"A few months after we started seeing each other."

"And you never thought to disclose this to me?"

"Oh, wait," he said suddenly, as he looked away. He had his fist over his mouth. "Maybe…I shouldn't have said that. Yeah. I think I decided not to say anything…" he paused as he thought further, "Because it wasn't a big deal to me, but you might not like it."

"Well, it's too late now," Bra said with crossed arms. "And you were right. Please don't apologize—I see that look on your face. This would be a really stupid thing to apologize for. You were just looking out for my feelings. Still…"

"I could see…why they weren't right for you," he said looking at her now. "I hoped that I could be better."

"You must think so little of me," Bra began as she looked away from him, "Running into them like that one after the other. There's more, you know."

"I know."

"A lot more."

"I know," he repeated.

"Do you? Have you ever…wondered about that?"

"Not really," he said. "Why should I?"

"I mean…" Bra began, but then didn't finish.

If the roles had been switched, she doubted she would have been as unconcerned about it. Dating history was one thing a person couldn't change about themselves and it was the one thing that Bra was always worried would make her undesirable. It might clue people in to how fickle she really was. She cared a lot about someone's appearance and about how one carried themselves. Unfortunately, she often grew bored with people she was dating and discarded them without a second thought. She knew it was callous, but that was simply how she was. Though she wanted to be open to more kinds of people, she knew she'd not be satisfied with someone who wasn't good looking—at least in her eyes—and who had nothing about them that interested her even if they were kind and cherished her. If she was to spend the rest of her life with someone, those two things had to be met or else she wouldn't fall in love.

"What _do_ you care about then?" Bra asked as the other had returned his attention to the playground.

"What do you mean?" Malachi asked uncertainly. His eyes were back on her.

"What do you actually like about me? You already know I've dated over half the guys in the city—who knows, maybe you've ran into other guys I dated without even knowing."

He seemed to find this amusing as a smile came to his lips.

"Is it the sex?" Bra pressed when he hadn't said anything for a moment.

"I can't…put it into words," he said with furrowed eyebrows. "You're really nice," he started, but then paused again.

"I'm not," Bra said, "That's why I don't exactly have a crowd of friends."

"You're nice to me. You're always worried about me. You make me feel safe. You're always so warm. And you're the only one who's ever put up with me for so long. With you I have a family. With you I have a home."

Bra couldn't help the smile that was being brought to her face. "Malachi, I don't think you're having much trouble putting it into words. Sometimes, I just wonder what you see in me. I was never actually looking for anything long-term. I know I'm not long-term material especially since I get bored with things so quickly."

"Don't ever doubt yourself," Malachi said turning to her. "I like you just the way you are. And maybe, I'll keep a few secrets for myself just to keep things interesting."

"Well, they're not secrets if you already told me you have them," Bra pointed out.

"But you don't know what they are," he said.

"Right; now you're just making things up."

Malachi smiled broadly at her.

"Wait, are you?" Bra asked concerned.

His smile didn't change.

"I take everything back. You're a terrible boyfriend who always keeps secrets from me!" Bra said playfully.

"I've never heard a truer statement," Malachi said though with a serious tone.

"Alright—You don't have to impress me anymore," she said with a laugh, "I get it. Just keep being you and I promise not to get bored."

His earnest expression hadn't changed, but he nodded before returning his gaze to the playground. Bra doubted there was anything about him that she didn't already know. He was mysterious only in the funny ways that his mind worked, but she knew him through and through.

Bra noticed the two women were leaving as they called to "Sarah". The little girl was in the midst of sliding down the big slide. As soon as she hit the bottom she started off towards the two, but not before waving back to Jensen and yelling out as clear as day "Bye, Jensen!". She received an enthusiastic wave from Jensen who decided not to call out her name.

As the two women were gone along with their child, Jensen was left with no one to play with. It wasn't long before he was bounding towards them.

"Daddy, Daddy! Play hide-n-seek with me!"

Bra placed a hand on Malachi's shoulder before he stood up as it seemed like he would. "We can leave if you want—we've been out here for almost an hour."

"Do we have to? Do you want to leave?" Malachi asked.

There was a certain eagerness in his tone. Bra realized that he actually did want to play with Jensen. Wasn't he too old for such childish games? Bra sighed to herself. "No—I guess we can stay a while longer. But not too long, okay?"

"Sure," he said glancing back at her. "Before dinner."

Jensen had made it to them by now and he was waiting impatiently for Malachi. It wasn't as if Malachi was known for humoring Jensen in this way, but perhaps he was a bit craftier than Bra had given him credit for. Jensen seemed carefree at the moment yet somehow she couldn't put it past him that he was manipulating Malachi to a certain extent. Maybe he had been testing the waters not knowing what he'd say or maybe he was perfectly aware of Malachi's state of mind and was using it to his advantage.

"C'mon, c'mon," Jensen said practically dragging Malachi away, "The slide's the safe spot and…"

She couldn't hear as the two had gotten too far away from her. Still, she thought as she sat cross-legged, prim and proper on the bench, it would be amusing watching them play together. Malachi hadn't invited her to join them. It could be that he'd already considered Machi and that someone should be watching, but she doubted it. Likely, it had simply slipped his mind to ask.

Jensen was up for counting first. She hoped they'd decided that the playground was the only place they could hide. As he counted, Malachi took his time looking about for a good place to hide. There weren't many places as it was quite a small area. He decided on the only place that made sense which was on the play structure right behind the wall of tic-tac-toe tiles. He squatted down quietly here and Bra grinned despite herself.

"And twenty!" Jensen shouted.

Jensen walked only a few paces before stopping and putting his hand on his hips. "Hey, is it okay if we change the safe spot to those trees over there!" he shouted pointing to the cluster of trees nearby that formed into quite the forest.

"Sure, no problem," Malachi replied and effectively giving away his position.

Bra decided to move with Machi to the closer bench so that she could hear better.

"Hah! Gotchu!" Jensen shouted, "I know where you are!"

"But you're too slow to catch me," Malachi shouted back.

Malachi had stood up now, probably realizing that there was no point to hiding. Jensen was already crossing the distance towards him. Malachi watched him for a moment, then took a leap off the relatively small playset and made a run for the trees.

"Hey! No fair!" Jensen called out as he chased after him, "You're too fast. You gotta' run slower."

"Safe," Malachi said as soon as he made it. Jensen was far behind.

"Aw! Do I have to count again?" Jensen asked.

"I'll do it this time," Malachi said. "To fifty."

Bra sat back on the bench watching their antics. It was nice that Malachi was giving him more time, but it wasn't as if it would help much. Malachi was clearly much faster than him. Nothing could reconcile that. Once Malachi finished off the counting, he took his sweet time seeking out Jensen, giving away his own position as he feigned frustration out of not finding him so quickly. Bra knew he must have seen Jensen by now—there was no way he was that out of it. As a result, Jensen had a head start running towards the trees. Bra knew immediately that he was holding back as he ran not even half as fast as last time. She thought Jensen would notice the change immediately, but he was quite happy with reaching the trees first and Malachi looked happy for him. Bra chuckled to herself as she watched. Who was manipulating who at this point?

The hide-n-seek game soon became a game of tag and soon that game of tag simply became pouncing on one another. If Bra hadn't stood up to call it quits, they might have been out there until night. Jensen was quite out of breath as he made it back to them. Malachi was perfectly fine, his breathing even and normal.

"That was so fun!" Jensen said excitedly, "We should do that more often."

"We should," Malachi agreed as he looked down at the child.

"Maybe you might even break a sweat next time," Jensen continued.

"Maybe," Malachi said with a wide smile.

That was pretty much a challenge accepted to Jensen as far as Bra was concerned. It would not surprise her if she stumbled upon them amid some intense game of tag later down the line. Somehow, she could picture such a thing in her mind—she hadn't been able to do so before. Machi was awake by now and Malachi returned to his earlier antics with her in the car. This too brought a smile to her face. She couldn't get a comment in edgewise to him, but that was alright—he seemed to be in a good mood and that rare mood was becoming far more commonplace.

* * *

 **Malachi had taken a thorough shower before laying beside her in bed that night.** Bra had been waiting a bit impatiently for him. This was often the part of the day she looked forward to when it was a long one. Here they could be together and it was them alone without anyone else to interfere. She looked towards him when he yawned.

"Tired?" she asked.

"Yes," he said wearily.

"But hopefully not too tired to talk to me a little bit."

"I can talk…for a little bit," he said, struggling slightly with his words.

Anytime they were alone in the dark together on a perfectly comfortable bed, a certain mood would overtake her. She moved closer to him and he did the same much to her satisfaction. She was turned on her side towards Malachi and he laid on his back. Without even saying a word, she placed a hand upon his chest and slowly brought it downwards.

"What…did you want to talk about?" Malachi asked slowly.

"Do you love me?" Bra asked with a dreamy sigh. She wanted to recapture that moment in the dining room that morning.

"Yes," he said without hesitation. He didn't seem annoyed at all by her asking the same exact question. One of his hands found her wandering one and intertwined with it. "Very much. More than anyone else."

Bra looked over and she could see him smiling in the darkness—a bright, sincere one. She liked that one the most. She pulled in closer to him, lifting herself a bit so that she could turn and kiss him. He returned it passionately placing a gentle hand on the back of her head. She wanted more this time now that he was in prime position. She slid atop him placing heated kisses upon his neck. Soon, she felt his hand against the bottom of her chin at first gentle and then insistent the longer she ignored it. With a sigh, she turned her head up towards him again.

"No," he said quietly.

Her eyebrows furrowed a little. "No, what?"

"Not tonight," he said further.

She lifted herself up a bit with her arms. "Wait a minute, Malachi—I _know_ you're not saying what I think you're saying."

"I'm tired," he said wearily.

"How tired could you be? We barely did anything today. Did Jensen really take that much out of you?"

"No..n-not Jensen," he managed to say.

Was he nervous? She couldn't fathom why this was happening. In fact, nothing like this had ever happened to her—not with him or with any other guy. "Then why," she demanded.

"Because it's difficult," Malachi said running a hand down his face, "to focus, to keep my thoughts straight. They're just…all over the place. All day, each and every day I'm hoping I don't…seem too foolish."

"I know, Malachi, I know," Bra said gently in full understanding, "You've been doing so well. Sorry, if I've been pushing you too hard, trying to get you to talk all the time. But, baby, I'm not asking you to do anything like that right now. Just let instincts take over—that's all."

"No…please, no," he pleaded with her.

The hairs on the back of her neck stood up when she heard this from him—he'd never said it like that before, no one had ever done such a thing to her. It was beginning to make her feel disgusting.

"Okay, don't worry. It's alright. I know you're tired," she said reassuringly to him. She turned over so that her back was laying on the bed and her eyes were staring up at the ceiling.

She was a bit shaken as she laid there completely still and wide-eyed. He was just tired, she told herself over and over again. Today had been difficult for him that's the only reason why. There's no other reason. When she felt the bed move, she looked over just in time to see him climb from the bed. She remained silent as she watched him leave. Her senses followed his movements to the large balcony nearby. Though she wanted him to have his space for now, there wasn't enough guilt in the world to stop her from following him out there eventually. After a few minutes she did so just to make sure everything was alright.

He leaned against the railings with his arms upon it and he looked upward pensively. He never turned to her as she made her presence obvious walking over to where he leaned.

"I hope I'm not intruding," Bra said for good measure.

At first, it seemed like he wouldn't respond, but eventually he looked her way as if he'd just realized she arrived. "Yes?" he asked uncertainly.

He wasn't responding to her statement, she quickly noted, but it still sent a shiver down her back regardless. He was wondering what she wanted.

"A penny for your thoughts," she said quietly. "You don't have to tell me," she followed quickly as his gaze became intense.

"I was thinking about the woman who sang to me."

"You were?" Bra asked, failing at keeping the suspicion from her tone.

He seemed not to notice it. "Her voice is quite lovely."

"Is _she_ lovely?" Bra asked despite herself.

"Her voice," he repeated. "I hope it wasn't my imagination."

He seemed eerily fixated on this and Bra couldn't figure out why. She hoped she wasn't losing him to some random person who he could barely remember.

"I wouldn't mind…hearing such a pure voice again."

"Malachi," Bra said trying to draw his attention, "Do you like her?"

"I don't know who she is," Malachi said looking at Bra now. There was a bit of frustration on his face, "How can I like someone I don't know? You're confusing me." Then a look of realization came to his face. "Bra, really? I love you and no one else for better or worse. I guess I'll just have to keep repeating that until you get it through your thick skull."

Bra opened her mouth caught off guard by his sudden frankness, but before she could speak, he placed a quieting finger against her lips. He looked weary, far more than he had been before. With a deep sigh, he pulled his hand away and then returned his gaze to the sky.

She decided to take his advice and shut her mouth. It was probably the best thing she could do at that moment. She wanted to apologize, but it seemed like he really wanted some peace and quiet. She stood beside him and then leaned her head against his shoulder. He eventually wrapped his arm around her waist when he stood up straighter.


	50. Too Good to Be True

**The doctor had never been specific on when Malachi might recover fully, but he certainly gave the impression that it would not be very soon.** Still, Bra witnessed a clear difference in Malachi as the days passed. It was not nearly as subtle as the doctor had made it out to be. The two of them went back to the doctor twice more in the next couple of weeks and Malachi was soon given a clean bill of health. The doctor maintained that he should continue to take things easy, however. The mind was always a tricky thing to diagnose and stress was something that could compound the issue. For the tests the doctor's ran on Malachi, she understood that he had just barely passed them and that a scan of his brain indicated that physically his mind was not as normalized as he appeared to be acting outwardly. This came as no surprise to Bra. Malachi was good at pulling the wool over her eyes—claiming that things were good when they weren't. Despite all this, she was quite satisfied with his progress and she could tell that Malachi shared the same sentiment. He was likely more enthused about not having to report to a doctor on a daily basis. Though he tried not to show it to the doctor, Malachi had already told her how he disliked going to them. Not all doctors were the same, but his first encounters with them had been less than savory. "They're only nice to people who can pay them," Malachi would tell her over and over again. Most were more dedicated to their salary than actually helping those who needed them most. In that day of age, doctors were paid handsomely far more than any other occupation in the world. Bra wasn't exactly onboard with Malachi's sentiments, but perhaps it wasn't too far from the truth.

Malachi had not gone back to his usual pursuits as a recording artist, deciding to take the doctor's advice for a change. Bra was all too glad to have him around a bit more often. Waking up to him beside her was far more pleasing than she'd ever admit to him. It was like being on some sort of vacation—they could do whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted. Malachi had no plans and she was ready for anything.

She knew that he usually slept until noon if there was nothing pressing to do or Machi wasn't up bright and early with her crying so she climbed out of bed around eleven to check on things and then to clean herself. Finally, she sought out Jensen to make sure he wasn't getting into any trouble. He wasn't in his room as usual; he tended to arise a bit early in the morning. She stepped down the stairs and peeked her head into the living room to find him diligently piecing together the jigsaw puzzle—the very same one that had been there two weeks ago it seemed. She wondered if it always took him so long to finish one, then again, no one had been helping him this time as far as she knew. With a sigh, she climbed back upstairs and heard the shower on as she passed the bathroom to get back to the bedroom. The bed had been neatly made up courtesy of Malachi. He could do such things even in a half-sleep state.

Bra went to her walk-in closet and slowly began parsing through her outfits trying to find the most sensual ones. Ever since that time before when he'd pleaded with her to stop, she'd not broached that topic again. She still figured that there must be some way to turn him on, make him more accepting towards her. Maybe there was something she could do to push him over the edge. Perhaps wearing something a bit more…provocative might do the trick.

"Bra, is there something you'd like to tell me?" Malachi said in raised tones apparently having returned to the room. His voice was a bit muffled through the closet's partially closed door.

He'd finished earlier than usual and she'd not had time to slip out of her nightgown. When she stepped out of the closet, she noted that he only wore a towel and he was still a bit wet. Though he wasn't as shapely as he had been in the past having just woken from a three-month coma and had not jumped right back into strenuous exercise, he was still passable. His dark hair was thoroughly wet and hung down loosely a bit past his shoulders. The features of his face suggested clear irritation, but she could still admire the perfection that was his face. It was as if it had been crafted by some master sculptor determined to create a masterpiece. Sometimes she wondered if he was actually real. She'd almost forgotten what he'd said, trying not to devour him right then and there. It took her more than a passing moment to notice the pregnancy test box in his hand which he now held up for good measure. Her face fell a little.

"It's a pregnancy test," Bra said, refusing to react to his heightened stress.

"That's just one—there were so many more in the cabinet."

She hadn't really been trying to hide things as she'd bought countless tests and threw them into the cabinet of the bathroom used exclusively by them. He could have found them at any time. Clearly, Malachi didn't often check the cabinet.

"Did you forget about that time with the ripped condom?"

"Yeah…right," he said after a moment. It must have come back to him. "Well? Was it positive?"

She grinned at the other amused by his sense of urgency. She stepped over to him and plucked the box from his hand. "No or else I would have told you by now. But those things don't work so well with my…physiology. I wanted to make doubly sure nothing was going on."

"Because you're only half-human?" he asked curiously.

She hated when he referred to her like that, she hated when anyone did that, but Malachi had always been fascinated on this topic. She suspected that in his eyes, it was more points in her favor rather than a negative. She smiled and bore it. "Yes, Malachi," she said exasperatedly.

"Couldn't you just go to the doctor? They're better equipped for this kind of thing."

"Says the guy who hates going to the doctor."

"The guy who hates doctors in general," Malachi corrected her, "But there's no denying that they can do what they say they can. Seriously, Bra, let's just go to the doctor and make sure."

"Geez, you really like to suck all the mystique out of this, don't you?"

"Mystique? About being pregnant? You honestly like walking around not knowing for sure about something that takes so much time and effort?" he asked incredulously.

Of course he wouldn't understand, but then she supposed she was being a bit silly about all this.

"Do you feel any different?" he continued, "Missed any periods?"

"You're being so personal right now—who asks their girlfriends about missed periods?" she said with a laugh.

"Concerned boyfriends. I bet your mom might know of a way—"

"No way! We will not get my mom involved with this. It's just between you and me for now. Who knows? Maybe we don't have anything to worry about." She gave him a chaste kiss on his cheek. "Now I'm going to get back to picking out my show-stopping outfit today," she finished as she began walking back towards her wardrobe.

She'd made him only momentarily speechless. "Hey, it's been almost three months already, hasn't it?" he asked with concern still in his tone. His voice was muffled once again through the door.

"Give it a rest, Malachi. Go check on Machi or something," she said dismissively.

She felt his form in front of the closet for a few more moments before he gave her a relenting "fine" and then left. She sighed at his departure. Speaking of periods, her last two had not been nearly as heavy as it had been before. Perhaps she knew already what was happening, but the over-the-counter tests had yet to confirm and she'd wait until the time when the tests were positive to break the news to him. She did this merely out of stubbornness since he'd discovered something was amiss before she could tell him. The doctor had warned him against stress; telling him immediately hadn't seemed like the best thing to do. As her mind went over the reasons for her delaying telling him, it was all beginning to feel like weak excuses which only made her that much more stubborn about waiting. It wasn't as if she wasn't being careful—she maintained a healthy diet and avoided alcohol. Deep down, however, she was afraid that he would be horrified by the news and finally he'd decide he'd had enough of her shenanigans. It was completely illogical, he'd never given her much indication that he was planning on leaving her anytime soon, but still her fears remained. He'd not seen fit to marry her or to ask. She felt more and more vulnerable the longer this didn't happen.

She wound up deciding on a pair of jeans that fit her quite tightly and accentuated her curves especially her butt and a red tank top that revealed the tops of her breast subtly pushed up by her bra. She wore her hair long and loose making sure she brushed all the knots out of it. Her hair was bright and vibrant, sparkling with its own natural sheen. She looked in the mirror and liked what she saw—she was sure Malachi would appreciate it as well.

She went to find Malachi after spending a fair amount of time deciding and finally putting on her outfit. Malachi's wardrobe was in an entirely different room since her massive amount of clothes took up both of the large walk-in closets in the room. Malachi's clothing situation was no better and, in fact, was progressively worse. He didn't even have all of his clothes there, but what he had was enough to fill up an entire room. She'd never thought a guy could rival her in that department, but he had to constantly buy clothes that were in style at the moment all to keep up his celebrity status appearance—and Bra knew people to be extra critical about celebrities who were in the spotlight be it red carpet or just walking down the street. She'd seen shows dedicated to nitpicking their fashion sense. As much as he donated his clothes on a fairly constant basis, he still had tons of clothes. Not to mention the fact that he also enjoyed getting new clothes. Then compound that on to the fact that he also had a plethora of disguises he wore in the pursuit of not being recognized out on the street. It had been a long time since she'd looked upon his ever-growing collection of clothing and she felt no desire to do it at this point.

She found Malachi in Machi's room—he wore something surprisingly simple, a pair of dark blue jeans and a white cotton T-shirt—sitting beside her with legs stretched out playing with one of the many toys they'd bought for her. This particular one happened to be a small piano that made wacky noises with each button pressed—it was a piano in design only. They were making quite the racket and Bra was already getting annoyed having just listened to it for a few moments. Machi happily smashed the buttons to her heart's content and she laughed shrilly at her own antics. Bra watched them for a few minutes before clearing her throat.

He looked up at her and she felt as dark interested eyes passed over her thoroughly before stopping there at her face. "You look beautiful as always," he said much to her delight.

She could barely hear him over the ruckus Machi was currently making. Probably noticing her disapproval, he slid the piano out of Machi's reach. She started clapping with joy and making her cute baby noises.

"What do you want to do today?" Bra asked. It was a question she'd asked him many times over the past two weeks—he usually didn't have a good answer and she'd wound up deciding for them.

"Well," he said considering her question, "Nothing extravagant. Just stay at home, bother everybody," he said with a grin, "Unless you had something in mind."

"A copout is still a copout no matter how you try to word it," Bra said shaking her head knowingly. He seemed a great deal calmer after their little spat about her apparent pregnancy, but that was clearly the power of Machi at work.

"I'm being serious. I don't really have my mind set on anything in particular—and Machi seems all too happy keep me company today."

"Alright," she said giving in to his laid-back energy, "We don't have to do anything, but I want you to take me out to dinner tonight."

"That's fine," he said as he began looking for a quieter toy. The floor was littered with blocks and other knick-knacks.

"And you have to pick the place," Bra continued.

"Okay," he said unperturbed.

"And you have to jump on one leg the whole time."

"I'll see what I can manage," he answered just as smoothly without even breaking his attention on collecting all the blocks nearby. The only indication that he noticed her strange request was a small, brief grin that stole across his face. "You want to join me?" he asked finally.

"Sure," she said as she stepped into the room and sat down to form a makeshift circle with him. "I'm surprised you're not hanging out with Jensen."

He generally went to see how Jensen was doing before doing anything else. She suspected it was because she didn't do as well with him.

"I checked on him. He's really into his puzzle—says he doesn't want my help, so I just let him be. Think he's been on it for a couple weeks now. Maybe I annoyed _him_ too much," he said with a small laugh.

"Do you remember that? When he was trying to get you to do the puzzle with him, but you were having some trouble?"

"You mean the time when he called me 'stupid'? Yeah, I remember that." He'd placed several blocks in front of Machi and had placed one atop another, hoping she might be interested in it.

"That must be so weird," Bra said watching Machi push the block off the one that was just placed down. "It wasn't that long ago."

"I don't have any issue with that anymore, but at the time it seemed like the hardest thing in the world to do. _Everything_ was difficult actually and everything was a monumental challenge—mentally exhausting. I definitely remember how that feels like—it's a sobering thing." He placed two blocks instead of just one upon another.

"Guess it didn't help that I was asking you all those questions." She watched as Machi pushed these blocks down as well. Bra reached out and made two blocks the base, then placed one block on each one before placing one block at the very top in the center.

"I do love a challenge," he said with a grin. "No—you were very helpful. I was drawing blanks a lot, it was hard to focus on any one thing. But focusing on you made things a lot easier. Everything just started falling into place, little by little."

"Really?" she asked in surprise. "Well, I'm glad to help."

Machi seemed to admire Bra's structure a bit more than Malachi's, but the small building went the way of the others and soon all the blocks were on the floor again. Malachi started out with three blocks and then made a pyramid as each row was centered and had one less block.

"Let's see about this one," Malachi said to Machi as he finished his construction.

At the very least, Machi didn't destroy it immediately. Bra was looking at Malachi again who's eyes were still on Machi. "Are you really feeling alright?" she asked.

He gave her a passing glance. "Better than what I've felt in a long while. Although, I should still have your mother look over things."

Bra had requested for her mother to not bother him directly for the time being unless something was of immediate concern. Now, however, he seemed ready for whatever it is her mother had found. She was beginning to wonder as well. Was Laputa gone for good? She'd been so happy that he'd made it back in one piece that she'd forgotten about the entire reason they'd taken such risks in the first place.

"Any headaches?" Bra asked despite herself. He didn't seem upset or annoyed with her questions.

"None so far. I hope it stays that way. I'd almost forgotten how it was like before that."

Machi pushed the block in the very center toppling everything over with minimal effort. She clapped and giggled at this; she seemed quite satisfied with herself. Malachi was already setting up something far more elaborate; a much bigger pyramid with a base of six blocks and spread a little further apart.

Bra watched as he carefully did this and as Machi herself watched with eyes that suggested that this was the most fascinating thing in the world. If she had a camera on hand, she might have taken a picture, but Malachi was always weird about his picture being taken and probably wouldn't like her taking one without him knowing first. This didn't exactly deter her from ever doing so in the future, but for now she wanted to savor this moment. Even as her mind began to think of other less joyful topics. Forever her mind would return to that time when he'd suggested they get Jensen a phone. He'd been on the verge of telling her something, something that she felt she needed to hear, something he might have normally kept to himself. Very rarely did he mention anything about Jensen to her. He was strangely closemouthed though she supposed it was equally as likely that he was walking on eggshells. Jensen was a sore topic because it could potentially lead to Lilith—the less she heard of that woman, the better.

Bra adopted a smile as she decided to add two more blocks to the base and then add others to maintain the pyramid form. Needless to say, it took Machi much longer to destroy this one. In fact, after two attempts to do so, the pyramid was still standing. Of course, it wasn't as if Machi was counting and in her mind, it probably wasn't a competition—she probably just wanted to make it fall because it looked fun. When she finally succeeded, Malachi switched gears with the activity. Instead of building things himself and waiting for her to destroy it, he guided her hands so that she could make something. This took a bit longer to achieve, but eventually after much trial and error, Machi seemed to catch on, but she wasn't especially concerned with what she was making just that she was doing something with her hands.

Blocks weren't the only things they got to that day. When Machi seemed to get bored, they would move on to something else. Sometimes Bra took the lead and sometimes Malachi. Though she enjoyed spending so much time with the two people she loved the most, it wasn't as if the little games and activities were especially stimulating. She knew the point of this wasn't to entertain her, but that didn't stop her from growing a bit burned out from it all. Machi was more than capable of entertaining herself with all the kid-friendly toys they had for her. This was different, however, Malachi was there. If it weren't for him, Bra would have left already. Malachi seemed to be getting more out of this than her, amused, it seemed, by the simplest of things.

They eventually tired her out. Machi had been surprisingly energetic and they'd spent quite a few hours there with her. Machi fit well in Malachi's cradling arms and she appeared to prefer him over her. Bra rolled her eyes in feigned annoyance. Of course, Malachi could win her over so quickly. She'd raised her chubby little arms to him when she wanted him to pick her up and he'd obediently obliged. It didn't take much longer after that before she was firmly asleep. Without having to sing or play any music, she settled down easily. Bra supposed it wasn't often that she received so much attention in such a short time.

With Machi down and Jensen still attending to his puzzle, they had a bit of free time on their hands. Malachi opted to seek out Bulma. He seemed not to mind her tagging along. Many times such occasions were one-on-one, but this time she would be there hearing the news at the same time as him.

Her mother was predictably in her lab in the lower levels of the main house. She hadn't expected her father to be there too, but she realized he was when she heard voices coming from the double doors leading to the lab. They weren't arguing at the very least and neither of their tones sounded noticeably stressed or annoyed. When they stepped in, Bra was able to see what they were doing. Her mother was on her computer that spanned across the wall a few feet and her father was standing over her with crossed arms—a very normal stance for him whether he was in a good or bad mood. Bulma greeted them first with a smile.

"So what brings the two lovebirds here today?" Bulma asked cheekily.

She received an eyeroll from Bra and a grin from Malachi. Bra noticed a brief nod of acknowledgment between Vegeta and Malachi.

"Mom, Dad," Bra began looking at them both, "I think it's time you guys told us what's happened with Laputa. Is it all over now?"

"No," Vegeta answered her without further ado.

Bulma gave him an irritated look before picking up where he left off. "Yes," she said with a bit of force. "And—"

"He's not dead," Vegeta interrupted her.

"But he won't be bothering anyone anymore," Bulma countered. She looked at Malachi now. "While you were in your coma, I had my scanners do a thorough examination. There were traces of Laputa left in your DNA. The antidote that was given to you lessened its presence within you to the point that it was almost completely gone. I have no idea why it took so much antidote for it to take effect, but it did. Probably, there was a stronger bond or something along those lines. The thing is, this is a _good_ thing. That the antidote didn't work completely is the entire reason you're still alive. His presence is eliminating the side-effects you were suffering from before and it allowed you to recover in the first place. This is the best-case scenario."

"I think I understand," Malachi said. "The last time I heard from Laputa, he sounded very weak and I haven't heard anything from him since."

"So…" Bra said slowly, "You're saying it's a good thing that Laputa isn't completely gone? Will that ever change? Could Laputa come back?" Bra asked.

"Million-dollar question," Vegeta said.

Bulma shook her head. "From what I can tell from studying what's left of Laputa's presence, there doesn't seem to be anything suggesting that he could recover in any significant way—he's been damaged too deeply. That being said," she said turning to Malachi again, "If anything changes, anything at all, you have to let me know. You're the only one who can do that—and you'll know better than anyone else."

"I understand," Malachi said with a nod. "I agree with you—I don't think Laputa will be a problem any longer."

"Then I'll believe that too," Bra said. She turned her head to Malachi and he gave her an appreciative look.

"I'd say everything worked out quite well," Bulma said, "And I knew it would. Somehow it always does."

Vegeta snorted at this. "Yeah. Somehow."

He didn't sound nearly as convinced as her mom, but it was in his nature to be cautious along with taking a more negative view on things. Bra had gotten used to this and paid it no mind. As long as her mom approved, then eventually Vegeta would too.

"Thank you," Malachi began, a bit out of the clear blue, "For all you've done for me—both of you; all of you. It's much more than I ever expected. Quite frankly, I didn't see myself living through this…But now that I am, I'm glad. There's so much,"—he looked at Bra then—"that I've yet to do."

Bulma smiled at him and Bra could tell that it was quite genuine—her father's expression hadn't changed.

"Don't just thank us—others helped too," Bulma began.

"Speak for yourself," Vegeta cut across her, "I allowed the others to be part of this instead of just doing it myself. It was more like an exercise in patience, but I realized it would be better if I involved others. If there's one thing I've learned from this entire thing, it's that Earth's defenses are severely lacking. Still is. We may have dodged a bullet, but we may not be so lucky in the future."

Bra had always had a feeling and deep down knew already, but her father had confirmed it for her; Earth's defenders were waning. He hadn't been accusing her of anything, but whenever her thoughts turned to this, she wondered if she should be doing more. No one had ever pushed her to be a fighter and she'd never been interested in that pursuit. She didn't want her future husband always putting himself into harm's way, but, in the end, she understood the necessity even if she didn't want to accept it. Malachi didn't _have_ to do anything, but the state of things didn't exactly allow for one to sit around and twiddle their thumbs.

"Tien was teaching his students how to use ki, real ki," Malachi began, "I doubt that can be said about most other teachers. Only those in his advanced class received that kind of training, but when I sat in on their classes I thought it was really enlightening. Had I not known anything beforehand, I think that would have been really helpful. Still, his students struggle even with the basics. If you're looking for warriors, you might want to start there—perhaps lend him your knowledge. I think he's really got something nice going. This planet is probably full of untapped potential, but that's just an untested theory of mine."

Bra couldn't believe it—her father looked to be considering Malachi's words. She'd thought her father would balk at the mere suggestion of human warriors filling in the ever-growing gap of defenders.

"Might as well see what Tien's been up to. You said you got something from his training?" Vegeta asked.

"A lot. Everything is broken down into its simplest, foundational form. Then you build from there. It made a lot of sense to me."

Bra assumed that Tien's training was more structured. Somehow, she could already imagine her father's training being the exact opposite without having experienced it for herself.

Her parents who looked to be in the middle something, soon returned to what they'd been doing before and she and Malachi made their exit. She felt ten times better walking out than she did walking in. Before, she had a bit of a dark cloud over her head as a small voice in her mind kept wondering about what had really happened. Since Malachi had come home from the hospital, Bra noticed that he was more like himself, more like the person he was when she'd first met him. Happy, positive, undeniably handsome—as in, he wasn't overly pale, or exhausted, or weakened, or in constant pain. He was vibrant and completely in control. Just being beside him filled her with energy and joy. She could practically feel his exuberance, brighter than it had ever been. She was looking forward to their evening outing.

* * *

 **Malachi's scent was subtly fresh with a hint of sweetness.** She'd complimented him numerous times on this particular cologne. She was sure he wore it now for her benefit. He wore a dark collared shirt with long sleeves and slim faded blue jeans; casual but somewhat dressy. She wore her low-rise jeans along with her red blouse with sheer sleeves. A few buttons were loosened, partially revealing her chest.

They'd decided on going to a high-end restaurant. Malachi wouldn't need to disguise himself as they would be amongst others of the same ilk. As they were shown their seats, Bra didn't recognize any of the faces she saw around her. At the very least, everyone remained calm as they walked past. In fact, Malachi acknowledged quite a few of them. Though she was outgoing, she knew it was nothing compared to the kinds of parties and gatherings that Malachi had experienced. He'd told her tales of meeting many other celebrities and all their extravagant parties. For him, it was almost a necessity to go to such functions; she didn't always feel the need to tag along. Though she could be considered a "celebrity", she was not widely known so she could get away with going wherever she pleased. She preferred the company of her friends if she could drag them along.

Bra and Malachi sat down on the same side of the booth as was their custom and the waiter placed the hefty menus before them. The entire book was embroidered in gold and boasted full clothlike menus.

"I'm surprised no one's walked over to our table trying to "talk"," Bra said. Even in places like these, Malachi gathered attention as one after another would suddenly feel the need to engage him in deep conversations.

"Popularity comes and goes. Doubly so for these kinds of people. I haven't done anything interesting in a while—I'm old news at this point," he finished with a subtle note of discontent.

"Well, you're never old news to me," Bra said with a smile.

He'd been looking around at all the nearby booths, but now he looked at her with a grin. "Glad you feel that way. Ditto. Still, it amazes me just how fickle people can be around here."

"That's the nature of the business—at least, that's what you always tell me," Bra said. "Seriously, though, with all that's been happening…You really haven't had time for anything else."

"Unfortunately, it's not something I can share with all the people I've _not_ been responding to for a while. Being in a coma and recovering from it aside—it's still been a long while. Communication has been spotty at best. I'll have a lot of work to do in the future."

"You'll still have time for me, right? Once things get going again for you."

"Of course," he replied easily, "As always. I'll try not to overdo things with promotions, meetings, music sessions and things of that nature. Key word: try," he ended drily.

"You better. I don't want you missing for weeks on end."

"Well, no promises there, but I'll call you or video call. I'll at least _say_ something to you and if all else fails I can just physically fly to you—think I've got enough handle on that by now."

"So I _will_ be missing you for weeks on end," Bra said in pouty tones. She wasn't truly upset, but it was entertaining watching the genuine concern on his face; his mind probably going a mile a minute trying to figure out how to appease her and yet still do as he wanted to do. It was impossible, but he certainly tried.

"Oh, Bra, don't be like that. You know how it can be sometimes—"

"I'm just pulling your leg," Bra said with a laugh, "I know how it is for you. I can deal. I'm glad you've decided to take it easy for the time being though—no need to jump back into things."

"I'm in no hurry," Malachi reassured her, "Spending so much time with you and everyone—it's been a nice experience. Something I could get used to."

"Good," Bra said with a smile, " 'Cus I can too."

A perpetual smile etched his face as he began perusing the menu. Bra finally followed in suit after realizing that she was gazing at him for too long; she wasn't sure if he had noticed or not, but he didn't mention anything. He seemed to be familiar with the menu as she heard him flip quickly through the pages. She took far longer reading even one page of appetizers.

"I'll try something different," Malachi said aloud as he still looked down, "Seafood of some kind."

"Oo, ambitious," Bra said back, "Think I'll do the same thing—I can hardly figure out what I want."

Malachi chuckled. "No need to rush. Take your time and read through all the options. It can be a bit daunting, I know, but you'll appreciate it better if you figure out what you really want."

Bra took his advice and slowly began looking through the pages. Once she got to the steak, she realized that this was what she was craving and she decided to add asparagus and mashed potatoes with it. The waiter eventually came back and they gave their orders—she'd also asked for a glass of water along with some champagne. With this done, Bra sat a little closer to Malachi as they continued to converse on anything that came to mind. She wasn't sure if it was a conscious thing on Malachi's end, but their conversation remained light and enjoyable.

She breathed in his natural scent enhanced by the cologne as she allowed it to surround her and intertwine with her own becoming more and more intoxicated. She loved when he laughed, she loved when he smiled, she loved that he paid attention to her, that he knew her so well, that he was quite pleased by her closeness and encouraged it. They could have been like that for an eternity and she would not have been aware of how much time had passed.

Before the food came, Malachi excused himself much to her annoyance as she grew comfortable with her position beside him—he needed to use the restroom. It wasn't as if she hadn't seen this coming, but she gave him an eyeroll all the same as he left her to herself for a few. Always when they went out somewhere to eat, he would use the bathroom right before the food was served like clockwork—it was an odd habit, but she'd never thought to question him on it. A mischievous thought came to her as she watched him leave: would it not be fun to join him as he whipped his member out at the urinal? He'd be thoroughly embarrassed by the intrusion. Perhaps she might even make him blush—a far rarer sight. She laughed to herself at the mere image.

Bra's eyes traveled to his phone on the table. Though he'd not touched it since they sat down at the table, he always liked having it within armlength. Curious, she took up the phone and easily bypassed the security on it. The first thing she saw was the image of a large diamond ring, shining in all its glory. Her eyes grew wide with astonishment. Slowly, she scrolled down the page and saw the same ring but with different cuts and different brands. The price tags on these were outrageous, but she grew excited all the same.

"So…" she began in relieved tones to herself, "You've been thinking about it too. Maybe I should stop being so silly and have the doctor check for my pregnancy."

She wasn't sure how far along he was in the process of getting a ring, but she was glad that it was on his mind. It had been so long, she wondered if he would ever ask or if he secretly had some aversion to getting married in the first place. She continued scrolling despite herself. After sweeping the page back up so that it could be in the same place, she checked the other open pages on his phone—they all pertained to different engagement rings from different retailers, all of them extravagantly expensive. Before Malachi came back and caught her on the phone, she returned to the page that had been on before and turned off the screen, then she placed the phone approximately in the same spot it had been in.

She couldn't help the smile forming on her face. She was sure it would be a permanent fixture that night. Now that she knew, she was quite relieved. She wondered if she'd ruined the surprise. Then again, it was silly to think he'd planned on asking her that night. This whole dinner had been her idea and if he already had the ring, he'd not still be looking for one. He was probably still in the beginning stages and would need some time yet to obtain it. Who knew what he was planning? He could simply ask her casually as they did something together, forever having the ring in his pocket waiting for the right moment or he could plan the crap out of it and have a specific set time to do it. The latter seemed more his style.

She looked up with a bright smile when he came, now overcome with giddiness. It was difficult to calm herself and it was even more difficult to explain herself as he noticed her change of mood. She lied and said that she just couldn't wait for the main course to come—it had been so _long_ since she'd had decent steak. They'd ordered no appetizers as the portions were quite substantial there if one ordered the right things and asked for the right kind of sides.

She was by his side again becoming more and more intertwined with him. She almost completely stopped listening to what he was saying at the moment as she'd become so entranced. Suddenly, she didn't want to be at a restaurant with him any longer, she wanted to be somewhere quiet, somewhere where they could be alone together. Midsentence, she took up one of his hands and pulled it closer to her. Whatever he'd been saying ceased as he now looked at her questioningly. With a mischievous smirk, she slid his hand under her shirt. His bare skin against hers was enough to give her shivers—she hadn't felt him in a long while; not like that.

"What are you doing?" he asked in a voice that conveyed genuine confusion. He'd turned a little more towards her to shield them from prying eyes.

She rolled her eyes at his cluelessness. "What does it look like, silly?" she questioned teasingly as she brought his hand further up. "Don't let me do _everything_."

"Bra," Malachi said as he looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

She could tell immediately that they were on completely different pages. Had he not been feeling what she'd been feeling that whole time? Was she alone in her feelings? No, he _had_ to know what he was doing to her. He was being so nice, so non-confrontational, she knew that he wanted her close to him and it wasn't as if this was some business meeting. This was a date by all accounts. What was she missing?

"Not with so many eyes around," he said as he pulled his hand away. "What's gotten into you?"

Her eyebrows furrowed a little in frustration at his reaction, "Really, Malachi, you're such a prude sometimes. I give you _full_ access to my breasts and this is how you react?"

"Could you say that a little louder for everyone to hear?" he retorted in irritation.

"Maybe I will!" Bra said purposefully louder.

"Can't take you anywhere, can I?" he said with an easy laugh. "Would it have been more appropriate to grope and fondle you at the dinner table? What do you want from me?—Geez."

Her anger dissipated a little as she noticed he wasn't nearly as bothered by her outburst as she thought he'd be. Then again, why would he be? It wasn't often he actively stopped her from doing what she wanted, but he would most certainly have an opinion about it.

"Malachi," she said seriously, "Do you love me?"

"How many times do I have to tell you?—Yes, like no one else before" he said with an amused look. "I thought it'd be plainly obvious by now."

"Then why do you keep doing things like this?" Bra asked studying his expression trying to find _something_. She didn't know what she was trying to find.

"Like what? You're going to have to be more specific," he said with a grin.

He wasn't taking this seriously. She was asking him obvious questions which had obvious answers, but she sensed that something was not quite right. Whatever it was, he gave no indication of knowing. She hated bringing up that time when they laid together and he'd pleaded with her to stop. It continually made her feel awful, but she wondered if there wasn't more to it.

"Sometimes…you can be so averse to…well, _loving_ me. Do you know what I'm talking about? I guess I'm not being very—"

Her words ceased as he leaned in closer to her and she found herself deeply kissing the man she loved so dearly and with all her heart. It seemed to come out of nowhere, but she welcomed it all the same. Her heartbeat was racing as it always did when his passion became so palpable. Everyone was watching, but that didn't stop him from pushing her into the wall beside her. This moment seemed to last forever until she thought she might faint—that was when he pulled away from her. He wore an easy smile on his face, one that suggested that he knew exactly what he'd just done to her.

"I know what you're talking about, but there are plenty of ways to love a person. This right here, what we're doing right now, what we've been doing since we first met— _that_ is love. That is the very definition. I could never see myself with any other person than you and whatever future I might have, I want it to be with you."

This was beginning to sound like a proposal, but she knew it wasn't. This was all too spur of the moment, too unplanned for him. But she knew what was on his mind. Maybe that was why he'd said it like that. It was easy to allow herself to be swept off her feet by his words and be in a cloud of contentment, but he hadn't actually answered her question. At least not the real question. She'd been with him long enough to see through his silver tongue.

"That's all well and good," Bra said quietly, "I love when you say things like that to me, by the way"—this drew a smile from Malachi—"but…it doesn't really explain things."

"What are you confused about?" he asked.

"Maybe I'm just seeing things, but there have been times, like now, when you've been…hesitant. Like you really don't want to be touched, that I'm being annoying or just forcing things on you. And, now that I think about it, you're never the one who instigates those kinds of things. I'm always asking you to 'touch' me, always trying to get you to _do_ things. It's…well it's odd."

He didn't answer her immediately. He just looked at her with almost a complete lack of expression. Except she knew he was thinking. He was taking longer than usual. Perhaps coming up with a _good_ lie was a bit trying. He looked away from her and down at the table. They sat so closely together yet she suddenly felt so distant from him.

"It's nothing," he said after a while. "That's just…how I am. I'm sorry if I've ever made you feel uncomfortable."

Malachi stood up much to her dismay "Where are you going?" Bra asked in frustration. "Talk to me."

"I need some air," Malachi said looking at her briefly. "I'll be back. I promise."

Just like that, he was gone and she was left sitting by herself. It wasn't long before the server came back with their food. His tilapia sat steaming and the steak which she had wanted so much sat untouched as she gazed at it angrily. All it would take was him returning and sitting down with her again—and her mood would brighten dramatically. She hated that he held so much sway over her mood or that he could make her feel so intensely without much work on his part. She wasn't even hungry anymore. She'd been looking forward to this and now she just wanted to be anywhere else. She cut a small piece of the steak—it gave in easily to her fork—and then ate it slowly. It was the most flavorful piece of steak that she'd had in a long time, but somehow it still tasted bland. With an exasperated sigh, she climbed out of the booth and went to find Malachi.

He wasn't at the main entrance, she knew, but he was close by. She could feel his distress, it was more than what she'd expected from him. She must have struck a nerve somehow. She followed her senses until she found him sitting in the car they'd driven to get here. He was in the driver's seat with head pressed against the top loop of the steering wheel. His dark hair fell forward and covered his face.

"Maybe I should just…" he said quietly to himself, but he never finished. She could hear through the window that was slightly rolled down.

He hadn't even acknowledged her presence and she was standing right beside him. He'd never been very good at sensing people, but she'd assumed his senses had developed a bit over time. Right now, however, he had no clue she was there. His mind was a million miles away. She opened the door and still he didn't move or give any indication that he was aware of her.

"Malachi," Bra said trying to get his attention.

He looked up at her a bit startled. She could have stood there for hours and he would not have noticed. That concerned her more than anything. What was he thinking about so extensively? Would he just keep it to himself as always, leaving her in the dark? He was surprisingly open about most things, but there were also times like these when she felt as if she knew hardly nothing about him.

"Bra? They'll think we're skipping out on them if we're _both_ out here," he said with a soft laugh.

He was still avoiding it, trying for whatever reason to prolong things. His hair was messy now and she took it upon herself to push it back with her hand—he didn't stop her. "Just tell me what's wrong. I came here to be with you, not by myself eating. I could have done that at home. Grandma cooked a damn good dinner for everyone, but I wanted to be with you tonight. Was it something I said? I know I can be a bit pushy sometimes."

"No, you haven't done anything wrong," he said with a sigh, "I was just thinking about something I should have told you a long time ago, but I avoided it, kept making excuses. It's so trivial, something I thought wasn't pressing."

"Trivial enough to make you this upset?" Bra asked.

"You always notice things and you keep asking the same kind of questions."

"Okay," Bra said drawing out the word not really understanding where he was going. But she suspected he was on the verge of telling her the very thing she'd been wondering about. The thing that sometimes made him seem so distant, the thing that had caused her to feel so terrible.

"Listen, this is going to sound silly. Just—I don't know how to go about telling you." He looked away for a moment and then turned to her fully. "Sex does absolutely nothing for me, the activity, the actual process, all the things one has to do for it, is utterly meaningless to me."

"What are you talking about?" Bra asked looking at him with eyes that suggested an utter lack of understanding. "W-What are you saying? It doesn't make sense."

"I don't know…how else to say it," he said with an unrelenting gaze. He was studying her face and Bra wasn't sure what he was finding there.

"But we've done things together," Bra said slowly, "I mean, there's Machi. _I've_ felt something every time we've…. What the _hell_ are you talking about?"

"I was just going through the motions. I was willing to compromise. From the very beginning I was willing to do that—I had to be for someone like you. It's not your fault, you didn't do anything wrong. It's just that sometimes it takes a lot out of me to _be_ that way on such a constant basis."

Bra's eyebrows furrowed more and more as her mind couldn't quite comprehend what he was uttering. "Are you lying to me, Malachi? This has to be one of your worst lies yet. Why don't you just tell me you're cheating on me or something? I could believe that. But this? What even _is_ this? You don't get anything out of having relations with me? How stupid do you think I am? You can't claim to love someone and not _feel_ anything."

"I'm not lying," Malachi said plainly. "Your friend, Pan. You've known her for much longer than me and you know her better. I'm sure you must have noticed some things about her."

"That's just Pan being Pan. She's just sheltered."

"Sheltered? The girl who has to actually work for a living and has to deal with other people from all walks of life to treat their pets? She doesn't depend on anyone else to maintain her own life, expenses and all. She's certainly not the one who's sheltered and I bet she knows a great deal. Tell me you haven't noticed she was a bit different from you, at least when it came to dating."

Wide-eyed, Bra humored him. "She pretty much abstains from having relations with other guys and that's why she still hasn't found anyone. I mean, that's just her being safe, right?"

"Is that what she told you?" Malachi asked.

Bra shook her head. "She…" Bra could hardly put the words together. She knew exactly the kinds of things that Pan told her on numerous occasions. "She said she wasn't interested in sex. She always says she couldn't picture herself doing that with anyone. I told her she was just being…childish."

"She's not abstaining, she's not choosing, that's just how she is. I can't say for certain what her feelings are about sex in general, but she doesn't want anything to do with it."

It was a lot to take in all at once and her mind was still desperately trying to comprehend. Her entire knowledge about relationships was just beginning to be turned on its head. She was an utter confusing mess of anger and puzzlement.

"If you…hate it so much, then why did you even bother doing it with me, why did you even bother dating?"

"I don't hate it—it's not an altogether pleasant experience, but I don't hate it. Like I said, I was willing to compromise. I didn't want you to leave me over something so stupid. I didn't want to rob myself the experience of being with you because of something like that. I'd done that for a very long time before I decided to do things differently."

"You're saying all those times…You really didn't get anything out of it? I'm starting to feel like this whole thing we have between us is just some sort of experiment—a ruse. A-Are you saying that I've been 'forcing' you this whole time—"

"No," Malachi said shaking his head, "Don't think of it like that. It was all consensual. I agreed to it. You haven't done anything wrong."

"Yeah, you keep saying that. Maybe you're the one who's done something wrong. Why did you keep this from me? And don't say because you thought it didn't mean anything. You must know that this is a big deal, a very big deal."

"Because I liked you, I really wanted to see where things would go—"

"All that time we were dating and I thought you were playing hard to get. It was just that…"

"I cherish that time when we really got to know each other and I didn't want it to end. Before I could ever really define what it was like to fall in love, I knew I always wanted to be a part of your life. And now—it's too late to turn back now, don't you think?"

"Malachi, you've been lying to me the whole time," Bra said in raised tones, "I'm dating some wierdo who doesn't even appreciate the things I do for him." She was frustrated and it was clearly coming across in her voice. "You really did have a secret," she said quietly almost breathless. The revelations were taking her breath away.

"I know. I'm sorry I kept this from you, but it's just not something I wanted to focus on. No one just introduces themselves like that."

"Yeah, because it's a given what people expect out of relationships."

"Whether I like having sex or not shouldn't matter—and, yes, I understand that people get a lot of pleasure from it and place it on grand pedestals as if it was the be all, end all deciding factor for every single 'healthy', successful romantic relationship. But, in the end, none of that matters—"

"Maybe to you, Malachi," Bra retorted, but he cut her off before she could say more.

"It's just something recreational," he began again. "Something that people can do with each other. That's all it is. Even if it's good, it doesn't guarantee a lasting relationship. And if that really is the only thing holding a relationship together, then there really wasn't anything there in the first place."

"I don't know what kind of idealistic world you live in, but this is reality and I require real and tangible things in a relationship. It's fine and dandy that we get along quite well, but that can only go so far. Without sex, we're literally just friends, really good friends. You don't marry friends. You don't spend the rest of your life with friends. You're telling me that it's impossible to ever share myself fully with you…I mean, is there something I can do to change that? Maybe if I was more gentle? Maybe I could _teach_ you? I just don't know and all of this is really starting to freak me out."

He looked at her wearily. She could tell immediately that there was nothing she could do to change things. She'd hit a brick wall with him.

"Bra," he began slowly as he looked away briefly, "It's like being given a plate of liver and onion for example. To me, it will always taste bad. You can dress it up with gravy or put in different seasoning, but I'll always be able to tell what it is and it will always taste bad. Despite that, though, it's still edible and I'm more than capable of eating it whether I like it or not. It doesn't kill me. I can partake in it if need be like anybody else who really enjoys it. It all goes down just the same yet it still tastes bad and its difficult to keep cramming down over and over again with each new plate. Every once in a while, I could manage, but if I were forced to scarf it down more and more often, it would quickly become a monumental task—an impossible task. Could I avoid the plate of liver and onions altogether? Sure, but I'd be missing out on all that good nutrition that comes with it and wouldn't it be a waste to throw away perfectly good food just because I didn't like the taste of it?"

Bra was actually following his analogy—the liver and onion being the thing that he got no pleasure from. It made a little more sense. Difficult as it was for her to imagine, that was how he thought about sex. Though it wasn't so strange that he could dislike something that she liked, this one thing was quite different. Everyone loved it. Everyone wanted it at some point in their lives. It was the one thing that everyone could agree on—that sex was an expectation when it came to relationships of their kind. The more she began to understand what Malachi was saying, the more she couldn't stand it. She wouldn't stand for it. Wasn't she worth more than that? Didn't she deserve a man who could fulfill her every need? He was just one fish in a sea of eligible men and there were tons of others who would love to have a chance with her. If he knew how replaceable he was, would he really be saying these off the wall things to her?

"Let me help you out then since you can't seem to see the obvious," Bra said with crossed arms. "How about you get rid of that plate of liver and onion that does nothing other than annoy you? You'd never have to deal with it again, you'd never have to force yourself to eat it, and you'd never even have to _see_ that dreaded plate ever again. How about I do you a favor and set you free from all these shackles—just find someone who can deal with your weirdness. You and Pan belong together."

Malachi's weariness shifted to alarm causing her to second guess herself, but only just a little.

"How can you be so _flippant_ about this? I tell you something that's really personal, something I've hardly told anyone and all you want to do is throw all of this away? We've been together for so long, done so much together. Give it some time. Think on it, at least. Don't be so rash."

"Our relationship was built on a lie, Malachi. Now who's fault was that?" Malachi looked away at this. "I've been nothing but upfront with you and all you can do is keep hiding things from me until it blows up in your face."

"I know. I'm sorry. I thought—"

"You thought what, Malachi?" Bra said sharply. Tears sprung to her eyes. "If this is truly who you are, then I want no part in it."

Malachi smiled. "This is just like you. You always speak your mind. You wear your emotions proudly without any inhibitions. That's something I like about you. You just need some time to cool down."

Bra breathed sharply. He didn't seem to be understanding her. Her mind was moving a mile a minute. Even if her decision was a quick one, it was one that she suddenly felt strongly about. They did not belong together. She could never agree to marrying a man like Malachi. She'd taken it for granted before, but she couldn't see a future in which she'd ever compromise or give up something that meant such a great deal to her. No amount of cooling down would ever change those sentiments. There were so many men out there, so many who could give her what she needed. Why continue with Malachi? All the protests in her mind died down as she gave answers to every objection. They weren't married and they only had one child together. It wasn't as if Machi bounded them together, her presence didn't put anything into stone and she was just a baby—one who still would be largely unaffected by things of this nature.

"Malachi, I'm glad you have your health back and that you're feeling better, but I can't go any further with you. It would be a waste of time for me and for you."

"Bra—"

"No more talking. You've done enough of that. I'm making a decision here. I want you to take me seriously just like I did you. I mean what I say. I know that this sounds harsh, but I've been taught it's better to just rip the Band-Aid off rather than pulling it slowly and prolonging the inevitable. I know you can take care of yourself so it wouldn't be unreasonable for me to request that you leave my place permanently."

"But Bra—"

"No!" Bra shouted quieting him down again. He looked at her piteously—it moved her only a little. She felt she knew what she was doing. "Take Jensen with you—he's your child—and I will keep Machi. I need you to do this immediately. I'll send all your belongings back to your place by tomorrow."

Glassy eyes gazed intently at her and they appeared haunted—it was almost too much to peer at for long. He remained silent probably uncertain whether he should speak or not. She finally looked away from him.

"I'll take care of the meal today. Use the car, go to the house, take Jensen with you, and go home. You got it?"

He nodded once, but his expression hadn't changed. "Yeah," he answered quietly, his voice sounded weak.

His shoulders were slump and when he turned to sit properly in the car, he looked exclusively at the ground. He seemed diminished and pathetic. She hadn't known what she was expecting from him, but not this. She closed the door for him and began back to the restaurant.

Later on that night, Bra found herself alone in her bed. She was crying to herself silently as voices in her head demanded to know why she had done such a thing. Maybe she'd made a mistake. Maybe she should have cooled down first before deciding all this.

"Even if I like him a lot, I can't be in a relationship like that. It would never work. Eventually, I would want more and he would never be able to satisfy me," she said aloud.

 _You never had any issue before when you made love to him, he really seemed to reciprocate. If it was manufactured, he was really good at playing his role._

"Yeah, he is. An expert. He said it himself as plain as day—he didn't get anything out of it. And I can't—I won't be responsible for forcing that on him all the time and I don't think I could stand much more 'no's' from him. I always get what I want. Always."


	51. Emptiness

**Jensen felt himself caught up in a whirlwind and it was completely out of his power to control or stop it.** He had a nice quiet dinner with Vegeta and Bulma and had returned quickly to his puzzle which he felt he was finally making some headway on. How his father or Vegeta could do them so easily was a mystery in itself, but what he lacked in mastery, he made up for in perseverance. He had no intentions of stopping until he finished it himself. Later that night, he sensed that his father had made it back home. He'd expected him to be in a far better mood, with a pleasant smile and a sunny disposition. Bra made him happy and they'd just spent an evening alone together—he should be over the moon. Yet Jensen could only sense a dark mood from him and he'd stepped into the living room looking down at him wordlessly. He seemed like he was in shock. It took his father a moment to verbalize his thoughts, but he didn't have much to say.

"We're leaving."

With those two words, everything began to go downhill. The more he protested the more closemouthed his father became. Other than telling him to quiet down and giving him short, snappy orders about taking a few of his belongings, his father wasn't very communicative. Jensen knew better than to press him further. Something about his demeanor caused him to reconsider such pursuits. Something terrible must have happened and perhaps he was still trying to come to grips with it.

Jensen had no idea where they were going and he did not ask. The drive was silent. No music. No talking. He climbed out of the car when his father did and followed him into a large house. It wasn't as large as the place he'd been living, but when he stepped in, he could see that it was still quite spacious. There appeared to be only two floors and Jensen watched as his father climbed the stairs. At the very least, he'd turned on one of the lights so that he would not be completely in the dark.

"What am I supposed to do?" Jensen asked before his father disappeared.

He stopped midway up the steps. "Pick a room. It will be yours for the time being."

With that, his father continued, leaving him totally to his own devices. Jensen followed his father upstairs just in time to see him walk into his room. He made his way slowly down the hall taking note of the doors he passed before he reached his father's room. Something wasn't right; his father was in a mood that even he couldn't decipher. He paused before his father's door before walking into the darkened depths. His father laid on his bed having not bothered with changing into something more appropriate for sleep. It was a bit too early in the night for his father to have called it a day. Soon, he stood in front of the bed intending to get some real answers from him now that they were alone and away from the Briefs. Jensen reached out to get his attention, but stopped midway as he noticed the other shuddering beneath him and his sharp intakes of breath quiet and muffled; his face was pressed against the pillow.

"Daddy?" Jensen called out despite himself. "What's wrong?"

His father didn't respond. Instead, he continued sobbing into the pillows. Jensen had never seen the like. It physically pained him to see his father like that. To be so openly shedding tears, something awful must have happened. The more his father didn't say anything, the more he wanted to know why. He couldn't help him otherwise— _if_ it even was possible to help him. Lately, they'd gotten closer, but he was never sure to how much degree.

"Daddy," he said again wistfully, "Please don't cry. It'll be alright, whatever it is."

His father lifted his head up slightly from its resting place so that he could at least look at him from the side. Jensen's eyesight was robust enough to make out just how bloodshot his eyes were; he hadn't just been going through the motions, he actually had been crying. This confirmation only made his own mood plummet, but he knew he needed to stay positive for his father's sake.

"No," his father answered hoarsely, "It won't be. I screwed up."

At least he'd gotten him to speak. Jensen stepped closer and placed his hand on the edge of the bed. "But nothing so bad that we can't fix it, right?"

His father didn't reply immediately. He lifted his head further and then slowly sat up in his bed. He sat against the backboard with his knees pulled towards him and his arms wrapped around them—such a position suggested a lack of confidence and perhaps even self-pity. "It's impossible. Bra and I are done," he said. His fingers clenched a little harder and more tears escaped his eyes. "It's over. I don't see how that can ever be fixed. Not this time."

"Why is it so different now?" Jensen asked peering up at him finally getting his father's distant eyes to look at him.

Bloodshot eyes gazed at him for a moment and Jensen had no idea what was going through his mind. "I presented myself fully to her and she didn't accept me." He gave a short laugh despite herself. "But I knew that would happen. One day, I knew it would happen. It always goes like that. I try to do everything so well. I try to make them feel better than they ever have before. I try to be attentive. I try to listen to them. I always try to listen to them. I try to do all the things that one could ever want in a partner, but sooner or later they realize I'm not perfect. Once I'm done performing and the curtains are closed, they're just left with me—and who would want that? No one's ever truly been on my side. My own adoptive father only wanted me because of what I could do for him. I had to work for his acceptance. I had to be of use or else I'd be thrown back into the trash. My own fans. Fickle people at best. They only love a certain persona—the one I was told to adopt at all times or else people wouldn't like me. They would lose interest in me and they would take their money elsewhere. But they're fans, I never expected much from them; there's only so much they can do from afar. And Bra…she wants someone who can fulfill her every need and I could not do it. It was impossible from the very beginning and yet I persisted so that I can do _this_ again," he finished probably referring to the state he was in.

"I'm on your side," Jensen insisted. "I'm _always_ on your side."

His father's gaze turned to him again. He seemed amused. "And I don't know why. I've been pretty shitty to you. Said awful things to you. Ignored you. Belittled you. If you want to, you could just go back to them. Sure Bra may not like it, but there's no way Vegeta or Bulma would allow her to kick out a child. They're pretty nice."

"Yeah, I know. They are."

"All that time Bra was warning me about them. Hedging every chance she got. Then when I finally meet them, I liked them immediately. First Bulma, then Vegeta. I trust them and there are few people I could say that about. Then again, maybe my standards are low or I just don't know any better."

"Do you feel better now?" Jensen asked noticing that his tone was not nearly as dreary. The redness in his eyes were beginning to fade away.

Was it his imagination or did his father's eyes seem to soften as he looked at him? He wore a subtle smile, but he could still sense a sadness behind it. "Come up here. Sit with me," his father implored.

His father had brought down his knees and Jensen was all too eager to oblige. He climbed over his father so that he could be on the other side and sat beside him wordlessly. He looked up at him almost nervously because he was not used to such things. Very rarely this happened. His father put his arm around him and pulled him closer still so that he was laying against him.

"You're always so positive. I know that must be hard for you," his father said.

Jensen shook his head. "Not at all. It's just…I know that it's helpful. I know that you need that."

"Hm. You're just a kid and yet…"

"It's what I like to do. When you're happy, I'm happy."

"I see. You're really one of a kind, aren't you? I can't say that I feel all that comfortable knowing that you spend so much time worrying about me. It'd be so much easier for you if you weren't so aware of those kinds of things. Thank you anyway. Without you, I'd still be face first in my pillow crying my eyes out—not that I can make a promise that that won't happen again…"

"I know," Jensen replied. "But I'll be there to stop you from doing that."

His father sighed at this. "And you'd be waiting on me hand and feet if I let you." He took a deep breath. "Why do you always smell like that?—that sweet scent; I can't place it."

"Lilacs," Jensen said proudly. " 'cus I knew that you liked that smell so when I transformed I made it so I would always have that smell on me."

"Really, Jensen?" he said shaking his head. "But I guess I shouldn't be surprised."

Jensen tensed up a little when he felt his father's hand ran through his hair. He'd never done such a thing before, but he certainly wasn't going to stop him. His usual hair which covered almost half of his face was for a brief moment pushed back to reveal his bright dark eyes.

"Do you not like that?" Jensen asked.

"It's just a little odd, something to get used to," he said with a chuckle. "You should be going to school—I've been debating with myself about that, but I think you're ready for it."

"School?" Jensen asked.

"A place where kids like you are educated. Everyone has to do it or should at some point."

"But…I don't need that. I think I've learned a lot already."

"That may be true, but I'm betting you don't have the fundamentals down pat."

"Why don't you just teach me that stuff?" Jensen asked looking up with him.

His father had continued to run his hands through hair, but he paused for a moment at this. "For one thing, I would make for a terrible teacher. Secondly, it kind of defeats the purpose. Being around people your age—I think it would balance you. Maybe you might make some friends."

"Friends? But…Do I need that?" Jensen asked.

"Yes. You do. And I wish someone had given me that advice when I was younger. You spend too much time thinking about me. It's time you thought about yourself."

"Okay," Jensen said wearily, "If you think I need school, then I'll do it."

"All I'm asking is that you try it out. Not all schools are the same. If you wound up hating it, then I'll simply have you homeschooled. A last resort really, but I'd rather you learn than be miserable. Remember though, this is for you. What you're doing will be for your benefit."

"Alright," Jensen said giving in to his father's request.

"You sound so defeated. I promise you. It won't be the end of the world," he said reassuringly. "There's something else I've been meaning to do as well."

"What's that?" Jensen asked when the other didn't continue immediately.

"It was going to be a surprise, but I'll just tell you. We're gonna' get you a cellphone—a nice one—so you can stop pilfering mine all the time."

"Really!" Jensen said excitedly, almost jumping to his feet.

"It'll be your own personal phone with all the stuff that you like on it. And you can fill it up with all those phone numbers you'll be getting from all your new friends."

Jensen snorted at this. "Yeah, sure. I just want it to play music and games."

"One stipulation, though. You'll have to take care of it. You break it and I won't be buying you another so quickly."

Jensen nodded vigorously finding such a stipulation an easy one to follow. He'd always handled his father's phone with care; he didn't see how it would be any different with his own.

"Now, it's getting late and I'm tired. Time for bed."

"But it's so early," Jensen whined.

"I'm calling it a night, but you don't have to if you don't want to," his father said as he stretched his arms.

Jensen looked at him questioningly confused as to what he wanted him to do.

"That's your cue to leave," his father said with a dismissive wag of his hand. "Though I love the company, I'd rather have the bed to myself. There's three other guest rooms—take your pick."

Jensen climbed off the bed on the opposite side he'd gotten on as his father made himself comfortable. "Okay," he replied, "But what should I do now?"

His father was already turned away from him and yawning. "Whatever you want to, but don't do anything stupid. Recreational room downstairs. No food in the kitchen—there's some water. Library. TV in every bedroom. Knock yourself out," he finished wearily.

"But how late can I stay up?" Jensen asked.

His father sighed. "However long you can stay up or want to. You going to continue your 21 questions or will you leave your poor father in peace?"

He didn't like that he was being kicked out and that he was leaving his father to his own thoughts. He placed his arms akimbo, "Sure, so long as you don't start crying again."

His father's eyes were already closed and left Jensen's question unanswered. Not convinced that his father could fall asleep so quickly, he repeated himself a little louder.

"I'll do what I want, when I want, wherever I want, kid," his father replied in a barely audible tone in obvious lackluster. "Close the door on your way out," he said a little louder, putting effort into saying this particular sentence.

"Okay," Jensen said relenting.

It wasn't as if he'd ever been any good at telling his father what to do even if the advice was sound. He was stubborn and slow to change his mind about most things. His father was asleep only moments later—a testament to just how tired he really was. He breathed deeply in and out in a rhythmic manner as if he were constantly sighing. That was when Jensen left closing the door behind him. He liked to think that he'd single-handedly brightened his dreary mood, but it was more likely that he had simply distracted him and that he likely wouldn't be bouncing back so quickly. At the moment, Jensen could feel the other's calmness, but behind it, he could still sense the despondency. It was a constant presence in his father's moods and it was difficult to get rid of. At one point, Jensen had noticed that it was Bra that would make such things disappear. Ironic how that same person could be the reason for something perhaps far worse than sadness. Jensen had read up on this phenomenon and knew that this was a precursor to depression. He was determined to not let this happen.

* * *

 **Malachi found himself waking not to the stinging light of the sun or even someone shaking him, but to the high-pitched voice of Jensen yelling "Daddy" over and over again as if the sky was falling.** He didn't think for a second that this was the case and besides, he was finding it difficult just to open his eyes—they seemed nailed together. His eyebrows furrowed as he decided to put considerable effort towards finally opening them if only to give his aching eardrums a break.

"Geez, Jensen, quiet down," Malachi groaned as he rubbed his hands over his eyes.

Even as he sat up with his hands pressed against his eyes in agitation, he still felt quite tired as if he'd gotten absolutely nothing out of last night. He'd gone to bed even earlier too. He yawned despite himself. Jensen had ceased his wailing thankfully. Squinting after he pulled his hands away, he looked towards Jensen's general direction.

"Sorry," Jensen said a little quieter, "But you wouldn't wake up and I thought something bad had happened. It's already one in the afternoon."

"It's what time?" Malachi asked with a scratchy voice.

"One in the afternoon," Jensen repeated readily.

It was still a bit mindboggling despite hearing it for the second time. He sighed heavily. His eyes were not adjusting all that well and he was finding the endeavor pointless. He simply laid back on the bed with his eyes closed once again not really knowing or caring why so much time had already passed. It could have been the next day and he doubted he would have been concerned.

"Daddy?" Jensen asked worriedly. "You're not going back to sleep are you?"

"Still tired," Malachi murmured, "I'm fine though."

"But…" Jensen began with some uncertainty, "You should eat. You need to eat, right? You skipped breakfast."

Malachi thought about this and found that he was not hungry. It was a little strange considering he'd also missed dinner, but he didn't feel like dwelling on this. He was just tired. Maybe if he wasn't so exhausted everything else would be normal. "It'll be alright. I'll eat later," he said turning on his stomach and turning his head to the side away from Jensen. He was already drifting off.

"Daddy, you can't just sleep all day—that's bad!"

"Who says?" he asked lazily.

"I read it somewhere. It's bad. It's bad to oversleep and bad to under-sleep."

"Right," he answered not really considering the other's words.

"Plus, you said you'd get me a cellphone."

" _And_ enroll you in a school," Malachi said humoring him. He still felt as though he was in a haze, but he was just able to peer through it.

"That too."

"How much do you want that phone—can it wait for tomorrow?"

"No, I gotta' get it today," Jensen said stubbornly.

Malachi yawned at this. "Guess that's reasonable. I'm not really doing anything today. Just…give me a minute to get ready."

"Are you really going to get ready?" Jensen asked in accusatory tones.

"Sure," Malachi replied though not believing himself even as he said it.

He started to sit up again in order to satisfy the other. With this, Jensen left. Without his presence, Malachi found he had no more motivation to even step out of the room. The bed being right beneath him and enticingly soft and warm, he fell back onto it intending to give himself a little longer to rest but ultimately falling fast asleep for many more hours.

Malachi woke to Jensen again, but this time he was shaking him to wakefulness and the room was dark. It was easier to open his eyes this time, but he found that he was no less tired. He didn't want to move from his bed. He could barely make Jensen out as he stood in front of him.

"Daddy? It's been awhile. You feel like going now," Jensen said in a quiet sad tone—he sounded as if he was at his wit's end.

Jensen's tone which he'd not heard before, alarmed him enough that he decided it wouldn't kill him to take the boy to the store. He felt a little guilty as well, knowing he'd said one thing and had done another.

"Sorry," he said sitting up. "We're really going, okay? Time just got away from me."

"It's alright, Daddy. I understand."

"It's not alright," Malachi replied contrarily. "Go wait for me downstairs."

This time Jensen didn't bother questioning him, he simply left. Malachi got to work on getting himself ready, but this turned out to be a task in a half. He knew what he had to do, only everything seemed to be taking much longer. He found he could hardly concentrate on the task at hand, his mind kept wandering and he would wound up not doing something right. He'd accidentally squeezed the toothpaste on the handle of the toothbrush instead of on the bristles three times in a row. He kept brushing his teeth for far too long. Instead of the facial wash that he usually cleaned with, he completely disregarded it and just used the bar soap. When he tried to correct this, he wound up making the same mistake again until finally doing the thing he'd set out to do and who's to say he didn't do this twice as well? He'd forgotten to turn on the hot water in the shower and was greeted with a chilling spray of water—it did little to wake him up. He'd put on his shirt inside out and then backwards. Then when he stepped out of his room, he'd look down and realize he was missing socks and then stepped out again to realize he wasn't wearing shoes. He couldn't be sure if he'd managed doing the whole "morning" routine right. It was likely he'd forgotten something, but he didn't feel like wracking his head on the matter. Jensen was waiting for him and the boy had been extremely patient with him. He didn't want to let him down.

Malachi had tied his shoulder length hair into a tiny hair bun and wore a brown baseball cap. His clothing was equally as unremarkable, wearing a brown T-shirt with orange stripes on the short sleeves and straight legged jeans with an off-brand pair of white and brown tennis shoes. He kept thinking he was forgetting something as the two of them finally headed out to the car. Then just as he was about to sit down in the driver's seat, he patted the back of his pants and realized he'd forgotten his wallet. "Hold on," Malachi told the melancholy child as he scrambled back into the house to get his wallet off the dresser. Then he realized he'd forgotten his cellphone and went back in for this only to later realize that he'd forgotten the keys. Lack of focus was beginning to get on his last set of nerves. Jensen didn't say a word when he stepped back into the car for a third time. His head was down and he twiddled his thumbs.

"Ready?" Malachi asked trying, but failing to muster up a smile. For some reason, it was impossible to do. The very thought of doing such a thing seemed almost painful. He was, in fact, quite agitated, but he didn't want the other to know that.

Jensen nodded his head with a little more energy than what he'd been showing. Malachi pulled out of the garage and then sped off towards the place he had in mind. Of course, he'd bring him to a store with the best phones and the best service. Midway to the store, Jensen pointed to the radio. Malachi had no idea what he was hinting at.

"You're not playing your music. You always play your music," Jensen said.

"Oh, right," Malachi said.

He'd not even bothered turning it on that time—he just wanted to get to the store and go back home. It was difficult even to feign interest in wanting to listen to anything. This caused him pause as he realized how uninterested he actually was—the thing that he claimed to like above all else only seemed like a nuisance at the moment. Something was off, but he didn't feel like trying to figure out what that was.

"Pick something," he told Jensen.

It hadn't been lost on Malachi that the other was developing his own taste for music. Surely, he could come up with something. He watched the other flick through the stations before stopping on one. Fast, electronic pop music began blasting through the speakers immediately giving him a headache. He gritted his teeth as he quickly turned it down. It was nothing he hadn't heard before, but it instantly annoyed him. Everything was moving too fast, the voices were too excited, too happy. Music that was supposed to elevate one's mood only darkened his as his eyes now glowered down the road. The car trip seemed to take forever this time as his ears were assaulted with more bright, happy music.

"I'll pick something else if you don't like it," Jensen said over the music.

Malachi turned to look at him for the first time in a while. "No, it's fine. I told you to choose," he answered only managing to change his expression to a neutral one rather than an irritated one.

He bore it as he slowly inched the car up in speed. Malachi was glad to finally get there and leaped out of the car with what one might mistake as enthusiasm. The store was brightly lit and only had an hour left before it closed for the night. He supposed this was the perfect time as most customers would have already left.

They stepped into a cool, pristine environment and dozens of new cutting-edge phones were on display. Any of them were fair game. A representative greeted them upon entrance ready to pitch and sell. Malachi let the woman talk only telling her that his son was interested in getting a phone and that this would be his first, preferably one that was good at handling games and tons of music—he'd spare no expense. The rep visibly perked up at the last part. She recommended quite a few and eventually was talking almost exclusively to Jensen who had a million and one questions. It took a lot of effort on Malachi's part not to be completely zoned out of the whole thing. He vaguely followed their conversation, but, in the end, he simply wanted Jensen to choose one already. In the eyes of a child who'd never seen a place this, it must have looked far more exciting to him as it was to Malachi. There were so many companies out there nowadays vying to be the best phone with the most capabilities, some were more niche and focused on enhancing select features and Malachi suspected Jensen would go for those.

After the rep went over her top picks, Jensen pointed at others and asked about them much to Malachi's growing annoyance. He hoped he wasn't showing it, however, and kept his expression as neutral as possible. The last thing he wanted to do was to make the other feel bad about taking his time and enjoying his trip to the store. Jensen looked over all the phones before finally deciding on the metallic gold phone which boasted a wide screen, fast processing, graphics that were better than most other phones, and capable of having a hefty amount of memory storage. Malachi suggested they also get some accessories namely a good pair of earphones, the largest memory card possible that happened to be ten terabytes, a screen protector, phone cases, and anything else Jensen deemed necessary. "Can I really get anything?" Jensen kept asking. Malachi kept having to reassure him. Clearly, no one had done such a thing for him before. Clothes shopping was one thing—he was part of making the decision, but ultimately, it was up to the person who was buying if he could get it or agreed with his choices. Here, Malachi gave the other carte blanche. Of course, the rep took note of this and continually brought up more and more enhancements that the phone could handle. Malachi pretended not to notice. For today, he was the ditzy consumer who had too much money on his hands. This was his first phone, he wanted it to be meaningful to him and something he would cherish.

The process of buying everything took longer than Malachi anticipated. He already had an account with the carrier and he'd be adding on Jensen. Then he had to sit through all of her spills about what would be the best offer for doing this. He then sat through phone activation, establishing a phone number, and signing quite a few documents. The rep noticed his full name and didn't even blink an eye. He wore his cap low and the bill of the cap almost completely concealed his eyes. He'd given no indication that he was anything other than a guy wanting to buy his son a new phone. Malachi officially didn't have a son and it had not been made public that he even had a daughter. Along with that, his disposition wasn't exactly sunny. He was struggling through just trying to be reasonably pleasant—he hoped Jensen hadn't noticed. He seemed to be in a bright mood, at least. He was being showered with gifts so Malachi expected no less.

The store was closed even before they were done. Malachi was glad when they could finally leave. Jensen gushed over his new phone torn between wanting to open it in the car or waiting ten minutes to open it at home. Not wanting to mess up the car in any way, he opted for the latter. Malachi could care less either way. He was able to keep up the conversation with Jensen, but the entire endeavor felt draining. He didn't want to talk, he realized, he didn't want to have to watch his mannerisms or entertain anyone even if it was Jensen—he just wanted to be left alone in some dark, quiet room. He wanted to be somewhere he didn't have to explain himself if tears started to flow again or be forced to stop because of someone else's concern. He wasn't upset with Jensen, but his presence was already making things a bit more difficult.

"We should get something to eat," Jensen said when they were less than five minutes away from home. "I'm so hungry."

Before his annoyance could get the better of him, he considered Jensen's suggestion. Even if he still wasn't up for eating anything, Jensen hadn't had anything for almost an entire day. He sighed—he was already screwing up as a parent. "Yeah, we should," he agreed after a pause. "Where did you want to go?"

Jensen chose a fast-food nearby and when asked if this was what he really wanted, he nodded his head vigorously. It was a place that Bra habitually avoided, calling the food absolutely terrible and overly greasy. In fact, it was rare that anyone from the Briefs family went to a true fast-food restaurant preferring other highbrow places or fancy, balanced meals. Knowing that he should care more about the food he was eating along with teaching Jensen good habits, he went there anyway because it was closer and Jensen really wanted it. Jensen didn't order a kid's meal and got what Malachi knew to be quite a large meal even for him to take on. The smell of all the hot food did absolutely nothing for his appetite. It didn't disgust him, but it certainly didn't entice him. To him, it was drab and boring. He'd do better tomorrow. He'd go grocery shopping, buy something nice and balanced. His refrigerator at the moment was bare as he'd capsulized all his food and added it to the Brief's food supply—they'd long since gone through it. He'd done so because he didn't want the food to go to waste or come back home to a refrigerator filled with rotting food later on down the line. At the very least, he still had meat in the deep-freezer and dry seasoning in the cabinet.

Once home, Jensen still didn't tear into the packaging of his new phone, he instead insisted on eating first. He sat down at the dining room table with his son. It was a place he knew well as he often didn't bother going through all the hassle of going out to eat and he enjoyed cooking. The table was a bit dusty from disuse, but a few swipes from a rag made it tolerable.

"You haven't been here in a long time, have you?" Jensen asked as he pulled wrapped food from the paper bag.

"Didn't have a need to come back. Not exactly the most welcoming place in the world, but it's at least familiar."

The food was easily unwrapped and his senses was once again bombarded with the smell of it. He could make out the smell of ground beef, onions and tomato mixing with that of hot, salty fries. It was a combination that he'd not seen in a while living with the Briefs, but before that time, he wasn't averse to grabbing something like that on the go especially when he was really busy and had no time to set aside for cooking. The hamburger itself was a large one and Jensen could hardly put his mouth around it. Noticing his first wimpy bite into it, Malachi didn't think the other would actually finish it.

"So, when do I have to do the school thing?" Jensen asked.

Malachi shrugged. "I can see you're not that thrilled about it so we can wait a little longer. A week maybe unless you really get bored around here."

"And what will you do?" he asked.

"Adult stuff," Malachi replied.

Jensen looked at him slightly annoyed. "Like what?"

"Well, first thing," Malachi began with a sigh, "Get back in contact with Quint, see if we can get something started again—musically, I mean."

"Who's Quint?" Jensen asked.

"The guy who changed my life forever. He saw something in me and groomed me to be the person I am today. We've made a lot of music together."

"He sounds really cool," Jensen said, "He makes music like you?"

"Oh, yes, he definitely makes music—I'm the one lucky enough to be working alongside him. He's a producer, conductor, composer, and a musician proficient in several different instruments. In short, he's everything. Actually, I've learned a lot from him. Recording again with him, that's something to look forward to if anything else."

He'd not spoken to Quint in quite some time since his last studio album, but he was sure that wouldn't present much of an issue. Quint knew him well. Outside of promoting his albums or keeping somewhat of a media presence, Malachi was reclusive and preferred quiet nights in his library or enjoying a good video game over going to some extravagant party or taking exotic trips. Malachi had acquired a lot of work-relationships, but everyone knew that outside of this he was not likely to call anyone on a regular basis and especially not for idle chat.

"Then…you'll be happy again when that happens?"

Malachi looked at the other with a raised eyebrow, wondering what connections the other could possibly be making. He'd just bought the boy an impressive new phone, something that he'd probably wanted for a long time and yet he still seemed dedicated to worrying about him.

"Sure, kid," Malachi replied, shaking his head slowly.

Jensen had only finished half of the burger and was already done with eating it. Malachi wondered briefly if he'd just throw it away. He had a slight pet-peeve with perfectly edible food being thrown away, but he also didn't want to force anyone to eat something they didn't want to. Often, he avoided such dilemmas by not cooking too much food at once and only things that he knew he would eat.

"Daddy, do you want the rest of my sandwich? I don't wanna' just throw it away."

Malachi almost suggested saving it for tomorrow, but he knew first hand that those burgers tasted terrible when reheated in any way. Besides, it was probably a good idea to have something after almost twenty-four hours of no sustenance.

"Fine," Malachi said giving in. "Clearly, your eyes were bigger than your stomach."

"I was really hungry or at least, I thought I was."

Jensen passed the open wrapper over to him, but he didn't eat it immediately as the other sipped away on his large cup of soda. Malachi peeled back the bread to peer underneath: there was an almost invisible but gooey layer of mayo, another squishy yellow layer of cheese, thin smashed lettuce, and mushy scraps of tomatoes along with, of course, the brown grainy mass that represented the burger patty. If he wasn't feeling hungry before, the food seemed downright unappetizing at close inspection. The familiar smell of a hot burger was all it had going for it really—maybe he was far too spoiled to appreciate the intricacies of a fast-food burger. He felt Jensen's eyes on him and he looked up in response.

"Don't you have a brand-new cellphone to unbox?" Malachi asked to the now idle child, "Knock yourself out."

"But—"

"Let me guess, you want me to be there too."

Jensen nodded with a shy smile on his face. Perhaps he knew that in the grand scheme of things, it didn't matter whether Malachi was there or not to watch, but he wanted him there anyway.

"I'll be there in a few," Malachi said shooing the child, "You have a lot to open and it's getting a bit late."

"Okay," Jensen said climbing down from the seat.

"Clean up your mess first," Malachi said noticing that the other was simply going to leave everything on the table.

Without fuss, Jensen crushed everything into the white paper bag and threw it in trash before making his way towards the living room. He turned to him before exiting, "Please don't throw it away, Daddy—you should really eat something."

"Jensen, I think I can figure out when and how often I should eat," Malachi said drily. "Besides, I hate wasting food. Go on already, I'll be out there," he finished wearily.

Probably sensing that he was getting a bit annoyed, Jensen disappeared into the other room and soon Malachi heard hard plastic being torn apart and stickers being ripped off. All the while, Malachi looked down at the remnants of Jensen's meal willing himself to take the first bite. After ten minutes of idleness and messing around with the innards of the sandwich, he gathered it back up in its surrounding white wrapper and then crushed it in his hand for good measure. An audible squishing sound came from inside. He pressed it hard into his other hand until the sandwich was more like a soup. Then, having enough of these shenanigans, he tossed it into the garbage near the kitchen behind him. His lack of appetite won out in the end. No amount of guilt-tripping on Jensen's part could have gotten him to eat that even if his heart was in the right place.

He wanted nothing more but to climb into his bed once again and stay there for a very long time, but despite himself, he dragged himself out to Jensen to entertain him a bit longer. Jensen had made quite a lot progress by the time he'd made it out and he was smiling from ear to ear with the realization of all of this being his finally sinking him. As if he hadn't asked enough questions at the store, he had a ton more for him as he turned it on and tried to understand the sophisticated software. This phone was miles different from Malachi's phone and made it seem like a brick in comparison. Malachi's phone was over a decade old, but this one had just come out in the past month. Malachi had to admit that it was mildly interesting helping the other figure out the latest technology. This was overkill—far more than what a child would ever need, but Malachi grinned at the irony. His smile dampened a little when he thought of how upset Bra would be had she been here…

Hours later, he was able to leave his preoccupied son and crawl into his glorious bed. It wasn't much of a bed. It wasn't fancy or embellished like Bra's had been, but it got the job done. It's familiarity made it all the better. It took mere moments for him to drop off into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

 **It felt like an eternity had passed when his eyes opened up again on their own accord.** He didn't feel particularly refreshed, but it seemed he was finally done with sleeping for a while. Music was playing a bit loudly beside him—Stevie Wonder's jovial tones putting him a bit more at ease.

 _You made my soul a burning fire_

 _You're getting to be my one desire_

 _You're getting to be all that matters to me_

 _And let me tell you girl_

 _I hope and pray each day I live_

 _A little more love I'll have to give_

 _A little more love that's devoted and true_

 _Cause all I do is think about you_

His phone was ringing, he realized, after a moment too long. It stopped by the time he reached out to it. He looked at the list of missed calls and saw that it was Vegeta who had called him three other times yesterday. "Yesterday?" Malachi asked aloud to himself. How long had it been? Quickly he pressed on the missed call entry and put the phone up to his ear listening to it ring. After a surprising two rings, he was "greeted" gruffly by him—record time for the likes of Vegeta.

"Why the hell have you been ignoring me?" Vegeta asked already agitated.

"Didn't notice you were calling until now," Malachi answered with a yawn. "Not like you don't know where I live."

"I will _not_ be coming over to your house begging for your audience." Vegeta replied, apparently put off by the entire notion.

"Oh, no, not a Prince like you."

"Are you mocking me?" Vegeta snapped. His annoyed tone had quickly grown darker.

He was already rubbing him the wrong way and Malachi still had no idea why the other was even calling him in the first place. Let it not be said that Vegeta wasn't the worst person to converse with over the phone. Malachi doubted Vegeta would ever really get the hang of it. "Yeah, I am," Malachi said unabashedly, "Just tell me why you've been calling me so I can get back to my 'busy' schedule."

"Busy, my ass," he retorted. "Why are you at your place instead of here? Why is Bra acting extra ill-tempered and Machi crying at every waking hour of the night? You two are really not together _again_?"

"Maybe Bra hasn't made it abundantly clear to you, but me and your daughter are through. This time it's permanent. It has nothing to do with you. There's nothing to fix, it's just over," Malachi said blinking back tears and hoping his voice wouldn't give away his true state of mind. The last thing he wanted to do was to start blubbering over the phone to Vegeta—the guy who respected strength over all else and considered crying weak and pathetic.

"No, she's made it clear to me and Bulma. I just wanted to hear you say it. She also told us why and"—at this, Malachi held his breath—"I don't get it. None of it made sense. Weren't you asking me about where I got Bulma's engagement ring the other day? It's always something with you two."

It was clear that Vegeta was frustrated and he had simply called him to vent instead of telling him something significant. He could only imagine how tense it must now be at the Briefs. He'd betrayed her—a woman like Bra. She must have been beside herself with anger and hurt. "What do you want me to say?"

"I don't know," he admitted without an ounce of hesitancy. "Just seems odd that you're so…nonchalant. What about Machi?—you abandoning her too?"

"I haven't abandoned anyone," Malachi said back quickly. "Bra asked me to leave so I did."

Vegeta snorted at this. "And so you did," he mocked.

Tears were streaming down his face again and he was too afraid to talk for fear of giving away his state of utter discontent. He wasn't drunk enough to reveal such things to Vegeta and now that he was no longer with Bra, he already felt distant from him.

"Nothing else to say?" Vegeta responded to his silence. "You're lucky I like you somewhat. I don't think I've ever seen her like this and I've never let anyone get away with making my girl feel anything less than the princess she is. You ever show your face here again—you'll have me to deal with."

Usually such challenges thrilled him. In this instance, it scared him. He didn't feel very powerful right now. Vegeta could finish him off in seconds and he'd probably be in a world of complete, inescapable pain. Before he could stop himself, he sniffled. Vegeta's sharp hearing caught on to it instantly.

"Are you actually crying?" Vegeta asked amused. "You would. Sometimes I forget just how human you really are. What was that odd thing you said to me when we first met? 'perhaps one day, I'll capture your heart'? Well, you're doing a poor job at it. You're doing all the wrong things and it's starting to piss me off."

Malachi's grip on the phone became tighter and tighter before he was only a few squeezes away from completely crushing his phone. He couldn't figure out if he was angry or just extremely despondent. He was crying yet he was belligerent.

"Make your threats all you like," Malachi began in a shaky voice, "If you want to kill me, then get it over with, otherwise stop wasting my time. That woman, your daughter is stubborn—you know that—she gets what she wants, whenever she wants. She's made up her mind about me and there's no changing that. I won't beg her. I won't grovel at her feet. When things are too good to be true, they often are. Unless you have something of worth to tell me, I'll speak no further with you." His voice had risen though it had become shakier and shakier. Then as he finished, he simply ended the call with the tap of a button.

What had been fear before had become acceptance. Vegeta could be extremely pissed and his days might have been numbered, but Malachi welcomed it. Death at the hands of Vegeta wasn't sounding so bad. After surviving such perils, it would be ironic. He buried his face into his pillows with a now running nose and pooling tears with reckless abandon. He didn't care anymore. Who was he keeping up face for anyway? What was he trying to prove? His ringtone went off again:

 _You made my soul a burning fire_

 _You're getting to be my one desire_

 _You're getting to be all that matters to me…_


	52. My Happiness Comes First

**Bra heard a knock on the door and instantly she was ticked off.** All she wanted right now was to listen to her music playlist—the one she specifically made for when she needed to cool off. Already, she could hear Machi crying in the background. She just needed ten minutes of peace…

"What do you want?" Bra shouted aggressively at the innocent door, "Go away!"

"It's me, honey," Bra heard her mom say from behind the door, "Don't worry about Machi, your grandma will take care of her today—she really loves doing that so I'm basically doing _her_ the favor. You going to open up?"

Sure enough, Bra could hear Machi's cries finally easing off. As much as she'd tried to take care of Machi—she'd done all the right things including changing her diapers, feeding her and letting her play with her toys—she'd cry all day and night and it was beginning to drive her crazy. She was starting to think the baby may have some mental issues or something. She never imagined a child could cry so much and so loudly. Either that or she was a terrible mother who could do nothing to console her own child. Who was she kidding? She was not at all cutout for being a single mother. She stood up and went to the door to unlock it. Her mother had already demonstrated years ago in her rebellious teen years that she could easily unlock any door in the house, but she understood her mother was trying to be nice—Bra appreciated this.

"Nice to finally be able to hear my voice again," Bulma teased as she strolled into the room, "Another day of that crying and your very patient father might not have been able to contain himself."

"Sorry," Bra said in defeat as she went to sit down on the side of her bed. "Guess I'm just not cut out for this stuff."

She felt the weight on the bed shift as her mother sat down beside her. "Sometimes…babies can sense our own distress and you haven't been your usual self in a long while," her mother said.

"Did you come here to tell me how I've screwed everything up? How I can't even get the father of my child to stick around?"

Bulma chuckled and this startled Bra as she looked over at her. Had she missed something? Or did her mother think her entire situation a complete joke? It was unlike her to be so callous.

"If only you knew," Bulma said, "I'm certainly not the person who would ever tell you a thing like that. I'm just here to talk, not to judge. Seems like you really need it."

"What did you want to talk about?" Bra asked.

Her mother looked at her in a way that made her feel as if she could read her mind. Despite such an imagined breach in privacy, Bra was never put off by it. She welcomed it. Being on the same page as her mother was something that she used to take for granted, but now cherished more and more.

"How are you feeling? It's no secret that you've kicked Malachi out."

"Jensen as well," Bra said. "I told Malachi to take his son with him."

"Hm, I see. You told us about Malachi, but what about Jensen?"

"What about Jensen?" Bra asked stubbornly.

"Surely, you have a reason for telling Malachi to take him with him. Did you think he'd be better off?"

Bra looked away as she asked this. "Yeah," she said quietly.

"Do you really believe that?" her mother pressed. "You honestly think Malachi is doing much better than you at this point?"

Bra looked at her mother with furrowed eyebrows. "What does it matter? —he's the one who lied to _me_. And I'm not responsible for Jensen even existing in the first place. Those are his problems that he needs to deal with."

Her mother seemed unperturbed and her eyes had not strayed from her. "That's true," she said much to Bra's surprise. "Oh, don't look at me like that—it is—I'm just trying to be objective. But, it's not always so cut and dry, not when it comes to things of the heart. It gets very complicated, very fast and all you can do is make the best decision you can at that moment. It can be really difficult and it takes a lot out of you, I should know."

"Mom, I know this is all happening really fast, but as soon he told me the truth about himself I knew it couldn't last. I knew at that very moment. Do you think I was being rash? I mean, you understand, right? You can't have a real relationship without any sex whatsoever. Everybody knows that."

"Actually," her mother began drawing out the word, "That isn't altogether correct. I've heard of many kinds of romantic relationships and not all of them include sex."

"Really?" Bra asked mystified. She hadn't expected to hear this from her mother.

"At a pretty young age too." Her mother made herself a little more comfortable as she moved back further onto her bed towards the pillows. "In high school, I used to know this boy who went to the same computer science class as me. Even from the first day of seeing him, I knew he was really smart. I'd kind of heard of him already—I mean, when you're that smart people tend to take notice. Everyone knew he'd be valedictorian, but nobody really liked him. He wasn't very sociable, kept to himself and his books. He wasn't part of anything at school."

"Wait a minute, you're really smart too," Bra argued. "I thought _you_ would have been valedictorian."

Her mother laughed again and then shook her head. "I have my niche, but I've certainly never claimed to be good at _everything_. I got so bored with all the other subjects that didn't deal with technology or science that I almost didn't graduate at all. It was never something I was clamoring for anyway. I had my eyes set on adventure and my dad owned a corporation that I knew I would work at in the future—it was right down my alley and I knew I would love doing it. Everything was set for me. School was nothing more than recreational and a place to, well, hook up. Now where was I? That boy who was really smart wasn't just good in the class I took with him, but everything. I'd heard of him, but I'd never taken notice of him until he took the same class as me. I was between boyfriends at the time and I was looking for someone who was 'different' or just not the usual type I went with. Also, I just wanted a challenge. That's all he was to me in the beginning."

"What was his name?" Bra asked.

"Auden Tyga. I thought his last name was really cute and when I got a good look at him, he was also pretty cute. He had that long, blond hair forever in one of those man buns and crystal blue eyes often obscured by eyeglasses. He wore all the wrong clothes, sometimes even shirts with holes in them, shoes that were coming apart and those eyeglasses always had duct tape around the bridge to keep them in place. I was a little bratty at the time and thought less of him simply because of those things. I thought I could fix him up. If I could just show him how to dress…I _didn't_ know just how dirt poor he was or that the person who probably should have been teaching him how to do such things was often too busy working three jobs. I learned that later, but I walked into it all wrong. I thought I knew better. I thought I could fix him."

"So you just took him under your wing?" Bra said, "I bet he must have liked that."

"It wasn't that easy. I started sitting next to him in class and talking to him. I could tell he was really uncomfortable when I did all that and I could barely get him to acknowledge me, but once I got him talking about computers—well he opened up to me very quickly. I thought I knew a decent bit about computers, but he knew a lot more especially coding. He started teaching me new things as I innocently, or not so innocently, pretended to be extra curious about the class and the lessons. Not that I wasn't, I just never spent a great deal of time talking about it to others. Soon the pretending became less so and more of me being in awe. I think he was excited about the fact that I was not only interested in the same things as him, but also could follow what he was talking about. He started sitting next to _me_ instead of the other way around.

"As we hung out more and more, for a while, I kind of spent less time with my usual crowd. I invited him to my house many times and each time he declined. I felt I was reaching a roadblock with him because although we liked hanging out and talked a lot, he never volunteered much information about himself personally. I'd told him a good deal about myself, but he'd yet to return the favor. So one day I just asked—I was a little rude about it, but, you know, I was getting impatient. He seemed confused about why I was so concerned about it—there wasn't much to tell. It was just him being socially awkward instead of what I thought was deliberately hiding information. That's when I really learned about him. He lived a world apart from me. I was so carefree just going through life always having what I wanted and doing what I liked. He desperately wanted to get into college and find a good job so that he could finally help his mother. He liked computers sure, but he never would have delved so deep into his studies about it if it wasn't a means to an end. He'd researched long ago that technology jobs were the easiest to get and paid well. Along the way, he started to like it and he had a knack for it.

"After he told me all this, I started buying him stuff, lots of stuff because I felt bad for him. I'd never known anyone like that and all I wanted to do was spend money on him and protect him from all the bullies and just, in general, make things easier. He told me to stop, but I didn't listen. He told me to stop again and I still didn't listen. He threatened to stop being friends with him—then I stopped showering him with money. He said he was sure to get a full ride if he kept up his studies and that he planned on getting through college in less than four years. He was surprisingly mature, way more than the other boys and it was only sophomore year."

"Ugh, you're being so long-winded, Mom. When did you start dating him?"

Her mother looked a little annoyed, but still continued. "I was getting to that. By the time I started dating him, he was wearing one of the many eyeglasses I'd bought him and the clothes and shoes as well because his own were so worn out not only that, but a bit too small. He was thankful for that. He wasn't embarrassed at all even if people did start calling me his sugar mamma. Well, maybe he was a little embarrassed, but he was still very thankful. He'd never dated anyone before me. I was his first and I was determined to teach him everything.

"Once you really got to know him, he was really a sweet, gentle guy. He wasn't really romantic at all, but I knew he cared about me. It felt more like we were just best friends rather than dating. He didn't like being touched which really started getting on my nerves. Every time I tried to kiss him, he'd either hug me or avoid me altogether. I just attributed it all to inexperience. Then, when I tried to take it a step further despite not ever being able to properly kiss him, I scared him off. I kinda…pushed him into a corner and started, well, you know and he was horrified. I could see it plainly on his face. He hated it. I'd never seen him so panicked before.

"So he was like Malachi. That's why you eventually broke up with him."

"Not quite," her mother said wagging her index finger. "It was a little weird the day after when I didn't see him in school. When I called him, he apologized for what happened yesterday and told me he wasn't feeling well."

"Just because you tried to make out with him?" Bra asked incredulously.

"No," her mother said shaking her head, "He was actually sick—coughing, sneezing, the whole nine and he sounded terrible over the phone 'cus his nose was so stuffy. I kinda felt bad for him because I knew his mother wouldn't be there to take care of him. He'd be at home all alone. He hated missing class too. I told him to tell me all the classes he took and I made sure to get copies of all the notes and write down all the homework for each of them. He told me I didn't have to do all that, but I just wanted to. I kinda felt bad doing what I did yesterday and I still hadn't verbally apologized. This was my apology. I'd never gone over to his place, but I knew where he lived since he'd told me before.

"I'd never seen a place so rundown and dingy. It was no place for a girl like me to be, but Auden was there. It was a bit like an adventure and I was all for that. Weird, shady people stood out on corners, loud music was playing making the ground shake, and I felt like everyone was staring at me. I felt out of place. I was all too glad to make it to the apartment. He lived on the bottom floor. For some reason the door was unlocked—he told me later that the lock just didn't work for the door and maintenance hadn't seen fit to fix it. First thing I heard was his coughing. I saw several roaches and other insects before I actually reached his room. No wonder he was sick. It was a wonder he wasn't sick more often. Living in a place like that…it was gross. The place was as clean as it could be. I could tell there'd been some effort put into keeping it decent, but the paint on the walls was still peeling, the carpet smelled weird and had an odd shade of green. Furniture in the living room had holes in it. The air was stale and dry—enough to make _me_ cough. When I found him in his room, he looked absolutely terrible. His room was the same shade of gray and green like the living room. His covers were faded and forgettable. The only thing new and bright in his room were the eyeglasses I'd bought him placed carefully and neatly on the nightstand.

"He was surprised to see me and more than a little concerned that I'd come all the way there on my own. It took me a lot just to calm him down. I brought him his homework and everything. For that he was very thankful despite repeatedly saying that I didn't need to do all that. Despite looking and feeling like dirt, he wanted to start on it immediately—seeing all that school stuff really perked him up. If he had energy for that, then he had energy for me. So I asked him about his strange behavior yesterday."

Bra waited in bated breaths for her mother to continue.

"Auden told me that he made for a terrible boyfriend. He wasn't interested in romance, he was barely interested in relationships in general because it seemed to entail everything that he wanted to avoid. He found touching, kissing, and especially sex to be utterly disgusting and repulsive. He also told me that before meeting me he'd take a PC over human interaction any day. He told me that he really liked me because he liked the way my mind worked, my bubbly personality, and my stubbornness. I asked him how he knew he hated those things if he never tried it before. He was still a virgin. He just knew. As beautiful as I was, he'd never felt any desire to make love to me. That was the same with anyone. Even at this age when hormones were supposed to be raging, he felt none of those things. He didn't feel as if he was missing out on anything either."

"That's so weird. What did you do then when he said that?" Bra asked.

"I accepted him for who he was. It made sense to me. It explained everything. I'd been around him for awhile and he was unlike any boy I'd ever tried to woo before. Actually, I felt kind of honored that a guy like that even liked me. He liked me enough to want to pursue a relationship with me. I didn't like him any less afterwards, but he was unwilling to compromise. Just because I liked him so much and I valued our relationship, I was willing to settle for an aromantic relationship as long as he allowed me to pursue other boys. He didn't like that and there were a few other things we didn't see eye to eye on namely my smoking, my restlessness, his surprisingly old-fashioned values. That's why we broke up."

"But how could he say that he just knew? Especially since he's a virgin," Bra asked confused returning to her earlier explanation of Auden's odd tendencies or lack there of.

"I'd like to think that if we can _know_ we want to have sex when the time comes whether we're a virgin or not, the same can be applied to the opposite."

"So, in the end, it just didn't work. Because he was like that—that's why. It's the same way with me and Malachi."

"Is it really?" her mother asked. "Machi wasn't made through osmosis," she said with a laugh.

"Of course not, but it's not like he _wanted_ to have relations with me."

"And he told you that?"

"Mom, I already told you. He doesn't want to have anything to do with sex."

"But did he specifically say that he _hated_ doing those things with you? Did he say that he _never_ wanted to do anything like that with you ever again?"

"Well, no, but it's obviously implied."

Her mother was quiet for a moment looking at her pensively. "It sounds an awful lot like you're assuming things. From what I can tell, Malachi is definitely different from Auden. I knew immediately that something was up when I was dating Auden, but you've been dating Malachi for a very long time and this only comes up now?"

"I know it's weird," Bra said, "But that's what he told me."

"I'm not doubting he did say that to you. I think he had good reason to _not_ say it until now."

"So, you're on his side?" Bra asked.

"No, I'm saying that I understand. He's a lot more aware than Auden. Who knows? Maybe he's been through something similar with other women and he wanted to be more careful this time. He knew though, he must have known that telling you that would have changed things so he waited and waited."

"Totally selfish," Bra said haughtily, "he could have saved me all the trouble."

"We all want something out of a relationship," her mother said, "Perhaps we're all selfish. You'll never find a person who will perfectly agree with everything that you agree on and disagree with everything that you disagree on—that person doesn't exist. It's a fool's errand trying to find that. It's when we're unable to compromise and understand each other when a relationship truly fails."

Bra thought for a moment when she heard this. She began thinking about all her other failed relationships trying to find an instance in which this wasn't true. She couldn't dredge up anything. She ended a relationship every time she found something she didn't like about a person and there was _always_ something. Malachi, however, had taken the cake. Never did she think she'd find someone who had differing opinions on what she assumed was the foundation of a good relationship.

"So you're saying that I should just settle."

"No. Never settle for someone who isn't worth your time. You'll be able to tell though, when you've found the one. Sooner or later. For most, we don't even realize we've found the one even when they're staring right at us. I can certainly say that about myself."

"Well, I know Malachi isn't it. I know that for a fact."

"I thought the same thing about Vegeta when I first saw him," her mother said with a grin.

"Really?" she asked,

Her mother nodded, "The stories you've heard about him—they're true. He used to terrorize everyone ruthlessly. He wanted those fabled Dragon Balls so that he could become immortal and he would obtain them at any cost. He had his motivations, sure, but we were unaware of them at the time. He was not the guy one would ever think would make for a good husband. Everything was working against us and yet here we are."

"It's not the same," Bra said shaking her head. "It just isn't. I can't…have the life I pictured with him. It would have to be with someone else. There has to be someone else."

"I understand," her mother said as she sat up and then climbed off the bed. "I completely understand. That's why I've given you a day to yourself to have a little fun, take your mind off things for a while. You've been walking around here completely miserable—don't think I haven't noticed. Wallowing like that isn't good for anyone's health. Do me a favor and actually use this time to get out of the house," her mother said placing a gentle hand on her shoulder."

"Alright," Bra said barely able to manage the smallest of smiles. "Guess I'll try to figure something out."

She watched her mom leave and then sat quietly on her bed. She was still in a piss-poor mood despite forcefully trying to think of anything that _wasn't_ about Malachi, but it was hard to do. She sat on the bed that they had shared for some time. Machi who at least was quiet now was a result of their love. She couldn't even be sure if her parents were on her side. What she thought was earthshattering news didn't seem to affect them as much as she thought. They just seemed confused not on Malachi's apparent asexuality, but the fact that this was enough to end things with him. Maybe they didn't know enough about it. All they saw was that Machi was a thing—clearly Malachi didn't completely abstain from such activities. But it was more than that, she kept trying to say. They didn't understand that she _couldn't_ be in a relationship with such a person—it went against everything she was. She'd heard of such people, but had never really believed that it could actually be real let alone actually dating one for so long. The way Malachi was able to hide things, she wondered if he even was what he said he was. Even now, she wondered if there wasn't something _else_ he had been trying to hide.

Yet, the more she thought about it, the more this began to explain his behavior. They went a year without having it and Malachi had not been all that concerned with it. She should have known something was up then, but she'd been too wrapped up in him to take notice. She made every excuse she could to explain it away, but surely she should have known that no normal person could go that long especially not a guy unless they made some sort of conscious decision on their part. Very rarely was he thinking about sex. He wasn't wholly unaware of such things, but often when her lewd jokes were clever and lowkey, he would miss them altogether until she pointed them out. He could watch romantic comedies with her and not be affected in the way that she wanted. He listened to R&B music a lot—it was one of the many genres he liked, but this was the first one he was introduced to—yet he enjoyed it like a child would enjoy watching cartoons.

She'd never met someone who _always_ required so much foreplay no matter what the occasion. She could be feeling particularly frisky, but he would never actually match her enthusiasm until he worked himself up to it. There were far too many nights in which she would jump on top of him in the middle of some mildly interesting conversation and he would become visibly annoyed as if conversation meant more to him than what she was doing. He would always eventually oblige her, but there was never a point in which this wasn't the case unless it was something he knew or expected would happen which was far and few in between.

There were so many small things about him that she could recount that supported what he told her, but even now, after being able to think over what he'd told her, it was all too much, too fast. It also wasn't fair. How dare he paint some false picture of himself and then destroy it all in one horrible stroke?

Her mother was right, she needed to get out and go somewhere. Dwelling on the past was doing nothing for her. She felt as if she was going around and around in a circle. With a huff, she proceeded to her closet to find something that would make her look flawless that day and she would go make-up shopping.

* * *

 **The brightly lit store was where only the most prominent of make-up artists or other A-list celebrities would frequent.** The selection was wide and varied, but only the best lines of make-up were showcased here. Even brands that one might find at the drugstore had their high-quality lines that were just for people like her who could afford to drop so much money on something that usually wouldn't last for very long. This was also a place that she'd never gone to with Malachi so it wasn't tainted with memories of him.

Bra had already spent nearly an hour in the lip section trying on a variety of colors. The blue shades would get her every time as she thought it brought out her vibrant hair and her milky white skin. Eventually, she made her way to the foundation section—a place which confused her more than any other section. Different foundations did different things to one's face and she wasn't always sure what she wanted. It was in this section as she browsed that she was approached by a lady who worked there.

"Oh, honey, you look absolutely stunning," she said with a big, inviting smile.

"Thank you," Bra said enthusiastically with a smile of her own. Compliments never failed to put her in a good mood especially if it was from a complete stranger.

"So what brings you here today?" the woman asked.

The woman appeared a bit older than she and long dark green hair made her pine green eyes almost entrancing. Her voice was a bit deeper than a typical woman, making her seem even older in Bra's opinion. At the very least, she wore her make-up well. Bra imagined she was hiding a much older looking face.

"Nothing in particular," Bra said with a sigh, "I was just browsing. Anything new come out?"

The woman—who's name was Amayah according to her name badge—was all too happy to share with her the newer products in the store especially the two new brands that had just started making itself known. Bra simply followed Amayah, enjoying all the commentary she had on the topic and adding a few of her own opinions. She hadn't been sure that she would actually buy anything, but this woman could easily have her buying up the entire store with the way she was describing the products and their uses. She disclosed to her that there were no skin issues she had to deal with, but anything that could make her look as flawless as possible was something she almost always went for.

Bra eventually picked out five different products that she was not completely sold on buying. That was when Amayah decided that she'd simply apply the make-up fully so that she could see and feel it. Bra was delighted to hear such things—one of the things she liked was having someone other than herself putting on the make-up. It would be just like a real transformation since she wasn't seeing every step of the process. All she had to do at the end was look into a mirror and see just how perfect she'd become. Bra had her eyes closed as Amayah began.

"I couldn't help but notice that you look like the woman that Malachi's been dating for a while now—If you don't mind me pointing out," she said in a pleasant air as she applied cleaning astringent to her skin.

"Well, I do mind—a little. My name's Bra, by the way, not 'Malachi's girlfriend'," she said with a frown.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I'm just really terrible with names. I'll make sure to remember yours though, miss."

"It's alright. I'm just giving you a hard time. I'm not in the best of moods. Besides, I try to stay out of the limelight. Can't expect people to know me that well."

"I see. Well, Bra, I've been having a great time with you today. Mondays are a bit slow in here and might I say, your face, the structure—it's just perfect for an artist like me. Do you mind if I take a few liberties? If you don't like it, I can change it easily."

Bra shrugged. "Do what you like so long as I look beautiful."

Amayah grinned. "You won't regret it. I'll give you a more high-fashion look."

Bra was simply glad to have given the other a reason to take a little longer. She was in no rush and she loved being pampered.

"How's life been for you, Bra?" Amayah asked.

Bra couldn't answer this immediately as she wondered how truthful she should be. Amayah, after all, was a complete stranger and it was dangerous for her to put out too much personal information. Her mom always warned her against doing this for as long as she could remember. For that reason alone, she was usually quite a guarded person around strangers and gave them short, snappy answers to questions that her mother would have thought too deep. Today, however, she could care less.

"Shitty, actually," Bra said.

"Honey, the whole world wants to be in your shoes and yet even a woman like you can be miserable. Now that's a sobering thought."

"It's not all it's cracked up to be, that's for sure. People ain't always what they seem."

Even though she was talking about Malachi, it didn't hurt as it had back at home. Perhaps it had something to do with the feeling of soft bristles running along her skin.

"Don't I know it," Amayah said in agreement. "How's he been lately?"

Bra didn't answer her as she thought the question was a bit odd coming from someone she barely knew.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," Amayah said as Bra assumed she'd noticed her intrusiveness. "I forgot to say—I knew him in the past. You see a lot of people when you're a make-up artist. I didn't always have this particular job. Back then I was more mobile and took commissions as they came up."

"And at one point, you worked for Malachi?" Bra asked.

"You hit the nail on the bud, miss."

"How well did you know him?" Bra asked trying to understand what kind of relationship this deep-voiced woman could have had with him in the past. She could just as likely be lying, but Bra had no reason to believe that. Amayah had given no telltale signs of being untrustworthy. Her tone had not changed nor her heartrate.

"Quite well actually," Amayah answered as she continued to put on a good layer of primer. "We dated once upon a time."

This took Bra by surprise and she opened up one eye to look at the other a little better. It was a first. Bra thought it would have been impossible to run into someone who had known the hermit-like Malachi more than just an acquaintance. She'd learned long ago that he preferred being apart from people rather than being outgoing. He might have known a lot of people, but to very few did he ever reveal even a modicum of the self that was behind the persona. Bra had even started to believe that _she_ was his first as she never got around to asking about his exes and he never volunteered information. What were the odds of finding such a person by accident?

Amayah didn't look like Malachi's type. There was something manish about her aside from her voice. As she gave her a quick glance she could see the other smiling to herself. Perhaps there had been an ulterior motive to approaching her that afternoon. She knew already that she was dating Malachi. It wouldn't be out of the realm of possibility that she'd simply been curious about him and had wanted to ask her about him all along. The real question was, if this was really the case, why did she seek such information from her? Could she not contact the man herself? Maybe she was just dealing with some crazy woman. She didn't seem this way, however. Bra could sense no ill will from her. In fact, she seemed quite proud of herself as she dutifully applied a good layer of foundation.

"Really?" Bra asked despite herself. "Malachi never mentioned you."

"I wouldn't expect he would. It's been a while. Almost a decade."

"What was he like back then, when you met him?" Bra asked. She hadn't even bothered answering the woman's question, but she felt her own curiosity was far more important. She hardly felt like coming up with something to say about how Malachi was doing—she really had no idea.

Amayah took a moment to answer as another cool stroke of cream was massaged gently onto her skin. "You must know already—you've been dating him for a while—he's a bit different."

"Asexual, you mean?" Bra asked unabashed. She'd yell it out to the whole world if she could. She had half a mind to.

"Yes. When I met him he was terribly inexperienced, he didn't even know it himself. We spoke easily with each other and that was enough. He insisted on dating me despite, well, the fact that I wasn't completely done with my own transformation—if you know what I mean."

"What?" Bra asked in surprise. "You were…"

"Oh, I was womanly enough, but I was far less polished back then," Amayah said with a wink. "And he was a naïve boy. Old enough to be called an adult, but quite sheltered nonetheless. His manager slash adoptive father slash everything had him completely under his thumb. At the first sign of freedom, he took it. Thought he was doing things now that he had me to call a girlfriend. I noticed how he was around people. Always well poised, always well practiced, revealing little about himself while seeming as candid as possible. It was quite a feat for someone his age, but he pulled it off well. Sometimes I forget just how long he'd already been in the music industry. Yet he was still naïve in my eyes. He gravitated to me, I guess, because I was 'different' from everyone. He just trusted me more and he wasn't very subtle in wanting to hang out with me outside of work.

"He really hadn't the foggiest idea what dating really was. He was never told these things. The poor thing was simply winging it and I knew it. I kind of took it upon myself to educate him."

"I had no idea," Bra said, "I can't even imagine him like that."

"I taught him well," Amayah said with an air of pride. "He caught on quickly enough. We hung out a lot, watched plenty of movies, strolled through many-a parks, and played many-a games. But that was all we did. If he hadn't been so insistent on calling it 'dating', I would have described it as just being really good friends. In the beginning, I never _did_ anything with him or even tried because it never felt right and it never seemed as if he was in the right mood for it. Then one day, I asked him a few questions about things like what he thought a real relationship should entail, whether he found me attractive or not, have you even once thought about making love to me in the past few months we've known each other."

"And…what did he say?" Bra asked quietly.

"You probably know already. He was incredibly vague with the relationship question—he really had no idea other than the fact that we should both be happy and try to have fun. For the what-he-thought-of-my-looks question, he told me that he never looked at people like that. It didn't matter to him. What people called attractive to him was just another set of rules that he had to remember. There was this disconnect—can you imagine?" Amayah asked in an incredulous tone, "He doesn't have any personal stake in what one looks like. He understands the concept, but it doesn't actually—what's the word I'm looking for?—resonate with him. He could appreciate beauty in itself, but it was not attractive to him. Do you understand?"

"I think I do," Bra said. "It's just another thing I didn't know about. I guess _that_ would be pretty difficult to explain and probably irrelevant. It would have been nice to know. I would try to dress provocatively. I used to be so worried about keeping my figure because I didn't want to disappoint him. All of that was apparently a moot point. He could care less either way."

"That isn't to say, he didn't appreciate the effort I took in taking care of myself. I was a make-up artist after all. I doubt he'd take very kindly to slobs, not because of what they look like but because of how they carried themselves. As for the last question, I guess you know the answer to that. The thought hadn't even crossed his mind. I asked him if he even knew what I was talking about. Did he even have a concept of it? He told me that he knew of it, but didn't understand it and certainly had never participated in it before. I thought I'd found my solution. I would 'educate' him in the ways of a relationship and see where it goes from there. I didn't want to jump to any conclusions about him, but after a while, after almost two years of dating, I knew he wasn't into sex at all. We watched literal porn together just so he could understand. The poor boy didn't even know how to kiss people properly," Amayah said with a laugh. "It was incredible how he could sit there and watch so much porn with me and treat it as if he was in a classroom watching some boring educational segment. He was fascinated by it, but not personally affected.

"One day, I told him what he was and strangely enough he took it as an insult. It was really the first and only argument we ever had. He seemed in complete and utter denial, but I think it was only because he didn't understand what it meant. There was a bit of a stigma around the very concept of asexuality—it was an orientation that didn't really exist and there were plenty of excuses out there to explain someone's lack of interest in sex. Had something traumatic happened to the person? Had he simply not experienced it the right way? There were many professionals that saw this as only a symptom of a larger issue. To him, being called asexual was tantamount to being called weird and damaged. Though he already had a reputation of being a bit odd, that was the kind of oddness that was too far even for him and especially for the image he'd worked so hard to establish and maintain.

"We didn't talk for days after that until he just called me out of the blue asking if I could just visit and that he was sorry about last time. I suspected he'd looked further into the subject and done some personal evaluation—he was the kind of person to do that sort of thing. That was because I'd told him in the first place and maybe I hadn't been all that gentle about revealing it. I knew he'd look into it sooner or later. He wanted someone to talk to and as far as I knew, he didn't appear to have friends with which he could do that with. From what he'd told me about Quint, he wouldn't be ideal either. It was one of the strangest relationships I'd come across. Basically, Quint was called his father in name only, but he saw Malachi only as a product, a thing that could be molded into perfection and be made to perform and make him wealthier. Quint was quite well-off in his own right, but his association with Malachi took him out of the producer circle and into the limelight, making him far more well-known than he'd ever been before. He saw to every inch of Malachi's life and forbade him from doing a great many things so that he could remain focused and at his best. There were times when I'd been there at their place and I'd hear them arguing downstairs and it seemed to me that on a regular basis, Quint would threaten to send him back to 'that orphanage' anytime Malachi disagreed with him on something. It was depressing to hear even if by then, it was an empty threat as he was an adult, but I'm sure it was something Quint said even when he was younger.

"I did sort of pity him," Amayah admitted. "He had no real foundation and he was stumbling through the dark. Quite frankly I was surprised he was functioning as well as he was. He could have turned out to be a complete ass and it would have been understandable. We talked that day and he poured his heart out to me, he said he had a greater understanding about himself and that he was very thankful."

"So why did you two break-up?" Bra asked.

"Ah, well, it was a gradual thing. We saw less of each other. He was very busy all the time. I was very busy as well. Then he called me one day just to say that it would be better if we went our separate ways. I didn't want that. I was fine with what we had. As much as I pitied him, I respected him too. I can tell that he really enjoyed being around me and he was the most attentive, well behaved boyfriend I'd ever had. You would think, a guy like that has all the chances in the world to slip up and cheat. I was around him for a bit when he was touring and he literally could sleep with any woman or man he wanted. The world was infatuated with him. They still are. That he was so nice only made him that much more sought after.

"The real reason, though he wouldn't say it directly to me, was because he wanted children one day. He was always thinking about the future. One day this or one day that. He was fine with adopting children, but he always expressed interest in having his own child, one that was biologically his and he wanted that child to be made between two people who loved each other. It was so far off and so unattainable to him that it was more like a fantasy. Even before he 'knew' about himself, he did know that such a thing was impossible for someone like him. I might have made him a more confident person and made his dream begin to seem less like a pipedream and more like reality. I let him go because it seemed like he was ready to move on. I didn't hassle him or make him feel guilty. I simply said that I understood and that I hoped he found happiness. I was actually rooting for him long after we stopped seeing each other. I hoped that he wouldn't find someone who would take advantage of him. I hoped he found that person who would accept him fully. I knew the world could be a cruel place and I knew that he was, at times, far too gentle and kind for his own good. He had a tough skin sure, but underneath was something vulnerable, soft, and easily damaged."

"All I hear is raving reviews from you," Bra said in a less than enthused tone. "The guy you described is different from what I've experienced."

"It's been a while," Amayah admitted, "Things could have changed. People change. Who knows what could have happened from then to now? I imagine he's a lot more cautious now though, a bit more tactful."

"Why is that?" Bra asked a bit sharply.

"Because of women in general," Amayah said in her same pleasant tones. She was carefully contouring her face now—almost done with her look. "Because of society in general. Many would balk at the idea of dating someone like Malachi if they knew and it would be treated as if it was a matter of common sense to react that way."

"So you think it's a good thing to lie about yourself? If he'd just been upfront about things…"

"It's a means to an end, honey. It's wrong, I know, I see your point, but who really feels like being rejected over and over again? Even Malachi who always seemed to have great self-esteem if anything else, wouldn't last very long under such conditions. Then it's game over. If it's one thing that most people don't like, it's a lack of self-confidence nevermind everything else. So, let me guess," Amayah said with a sigh, "He told you and you bailed just like that," she finished with a snap of her finger.

"Yeah, in fact I did. Do you have a problem with that?" Bra asked haughtily, wondering if she would soon have to defend her actions to the likes of a complete stranger no less, someone who was supposed to be serving _her_ at this point. She was the customer and the customer was always right.

"It's your prerogative," Amayah said.

"You should be ecstatic right about now. He's free again."

"I've long since moved on, dear. I'm not married, but I'm already in a committed relationship with a great man. I like Malachi, but not enough to ruin what I already have."

"Well," Bra said caught off guard by this. Amayah wasn't even nearly the desperate woman who Bra had been trying to paint in her mind. "That's good—I mean, your relationship. I hope it works out."

"Me too," Amayah said simply, "Though, you haven't told me—how's Malachi been doing?"

"We don't talk," Bra said. "After I broke it off with him, we haven't said a word to each other. I'm sure he's fine."

Amayah was putting the finishing touches on Bra as she began blending and sending powder everywhere. "I doubt it, honey. I sincerely doubt it. But I do hope he bounces back."

"Amayah, I do believe that you've been trying to guilt-trip me this entire time. I won't feel sorry for an asshole who decided to wait until the last minute to tell me something _that_ important."

"Alright," Amayah said backing off from her. "Can't blame a girl for trying. It's always a beautiful thing when you see people get back together, but I guess I shouldn't intrude like that. I don't know all the facts."

"You don't," Bra said. She'd not revealed to her that they had actually had a child together or the strangeness that surrounded Jensen—she didn't feel like it either.

"Alright, girl, I'm finished. Look at yourself in the mirror."

Bra turned happily to the brightly lit mirror and was pleasantly surprised. She almost didn't recognize herself, but in a good way. Who was that mysterious, dazzling woman staring back at her? "All the products that you used on me—I want to buy all of them," Bra said quickly. "This is—wow, you're _really_ good."

"I know," Amayah said smugly, "And you were an easy one."

Bra was feeling over the moon about herself. She felt like the most beautiful woman on the planet—a princess. This woman who had once dated Malachi was also the best make-up artist she had run into. She was a bit strange, but good at what she did. Was this the sort of women that Malachi preferred? Was he truly only drawn to women he thought were a bit strange? Bra would certainly not put herself in the same category as Amayah, but something must have interested him in the first place. Learning that she was only half-human must have been a big draw, but he hadn't known that before. Maybe the answer was simple. Maybe he'd known she was the daughter of Bulma—the smartest woman in the world; a genius according to many articles. It wouldn't surprise her if this was the case. She was sheltered and not very much was known publicly about her; her mother had kept it like that deliberately probably for Vegeta's sake, but also for all her friends. That was all it had taken.

She felt more like herself as she walked out of the store with newfound confidence. No matter what happened to her in life, she vowed to never lose that confidence again and especially not for the actions of one man. She wondered briefly how he was faring though she didn't want to dwell on it. Amayah had probably been right. When she started to recall the look of absolute shock on his face, when she started to realize how much he had invested into their relationship, how clearly he'd shown he actually cared about Machi, the expensive diamond rings he'd been looking into on multiple pages on his phone, she realized that he wasn't doing well. It would be ridiculous and naïve to assume otherwise. The more she thought about it, the more she didn't want to know. Placing herself into other's shoes wasn't exactly a pastime of hers—she hated doing it. She hated all the guilt associated.

For now _she_ felt good and that was all that mattered. That was all she was willing to care about.


	53. Attempting to Cope

**Days passed and Malachi could hardly register it happening.** His world seemed to be shrouded in an impenetrable haze. Nights became a dreaded time of the day. Something had changed after days of excessively sleeping, likely demolishing his natural sleep cycle. Now he could hardly fall asleep at all and spent many nights tossing and turning in utter misery. There was a despondency that he couldn't escape from. It was always with him and it colored and distorted every little thing he managed to get himself to do. It became easier thinking about Jensen than it did thinking about himself. He felt sick and twisted yet at the same time incredibly empty. It was too much to parse through. Ignoring it seemed all he was capable of doing despite it affecting him so profoundly.

He hoped Jensen wouldn't notice, but who was he kidding? The perceptive child must have known something was wrong, the way he was forever barging into his room trying to distract him or imploring him not to cry and that everything would work out. He was always trying to comfort him. As awkward as that felt for someone so young trying to help him in that way, it was also becoming quite tiresome. No amount of "it'll be alright, daddy"s were going to change his mood. It wasn't as if he didn't say those things to himself or that he was deliberately ignoring him. Malachi felt as if he had no control over it. He knew that it was something internal that had gone terribly wrong, but he had no clue how to fix it.

Malachi soon had Jensen enrolled in a nearby elementary school for the 4th grade. As it turned out, school started in a few weeks. It was the best-case scenario for Jensen. Though Jensen had had some misgivings in the past, he was beginning to warm up to the idea. He'd be amongst his own peers and he could make friends. The latter was the part he was looking forward to the most and Malachi was glad for that. Maybe if Jensen hung out with kids his age, he would begin to act more his age—or at least the age he appeared to be.

School was still a long ways off, however, and Malachi had to occupy his time with _something_ productive—that was what he told himself anyway. Instead, he spent his days wallowing in self-pity. He took Jensen out to almost every kid-friendly attraction possible including amusement parks, recreational centers, local fairs, and even the beach since the weather was still fair. Malachi wanted to be distracted, but that task seemed impossible. Every single moment he had alone to himself, his mind would replay that moment in time as Bra crisply ended things with him. It was a scene that kept repeating in his mind. There was always a small voice telling him that he should have known better, that he never had a chance in the first place, that he'd wasted his time once again, that perhaps it might be time to put himself out of his misery. This cloud that followed him everywhere appeared like a permanent fixture. Would it really be worth it to continue life in such a state? Such thoughts ran through his mind when he spotted something particularly sharp and metal. He would think about Jensen and slowly pull himself away from that deep abyss.

He was too afraid to be around sharp objects at all if he could help it. He avoided the kitchen altogether, knowing that he would soon be tempted and he didn't want to risk even a minor slip in judgement. He stopped cooking altogether in favor of ordering out or going out to eat for dinner. All the time, Jensen was happy. Sadly, it was the only reason he attempted to function on a daily basis. Jensen was always excited to go anywhere with him even if it was to a park—he'd be over the moon if Malachi joined in as well. He did so sometimes, but not all the time. When there were other kids around, Malachi kept his distance.

No matter how bright and sunny the day, night time would come. It only exacerbated the issue. He often distracted himself with video games and slept only in short snatches as he would awaken again and again. After surviving the night, the sun would mercifully rise again.

"Daddy!" Jensen said in excited tones, bright and early as he ran into his room.

"Yeah? What is it?" Malachi said in less than excited tones.

"Is it okay if I visit Yamcha? He said he had a game today and he bought me VIP tickets to come. Gohan will be there too. I told him to get you one too, but—"

"It's alright. I told him long ago that I hated watching those things. Have fun at the game."

"I will. You mean, I can just go there on my own?"

"You'll be with Yamcha, right? And Gohan. I know you'll be able to take care of yourself."

"Thank you, Daddy!"

"Sure, kid. It's not like _I_ bought the tickets."

Just like that, Malachi was left on his own for the first time in a while. The game started a bit later, but Jensen had wanted to spend some time with Yamcha beforehand. Very quickly, Malachi had the house all to himself. It didn't take long for the quietness to begin to consume his repetitious thoughts. When he sat down on a couch intending to watch television, he neglected to turn it on as his eyes wandered to the high white ceiling above. The more he stared at it, the more hollow he began to feel. Though he wasn't wasted or high, it was beginning to feel like he was, that is until he was startled half to death with a knock on the door. His breath caught in his throat and he had some real issue trying to regain his breathing as he choked on his own saliva.

The knocking was loud, almost frantic. It made him a lot more cautious as he was finally able to climb off the couch and make his way to the door.

"Hey, Malachi—it's me, Pan!" she shouted. Her voice was muffled by the thick front doors.

Malachi was a little confused to her presence here. She'd never come to visit him before. He'd also not called her in a while. He had not had a reason for it and Malachi was ever cautious about Bra's tendency to become jealous. Now, it didn't matter so much. Still, he felt apprehensive, he felt he was doing something wrong walking across the room and answering the door.

"Oh, Malachi—I'm so glad to see you. Jensen told me everything," she said as she spread her arms open and pulled him into a firm embrace.

He didn't even pretend to be put off by her sudden appearance or her actions at the moment. "I'm so sorry," he heard her say, as he finally reciprocated. Having her there, at the very least, was comforting, but he found he had no tears to spare. He wondered if he had any emotion at all to spare. He was glad to finally remove himself from her hold.

"So…Jensen told you to come?" Malachi asked the sympathetic woman.

"He sounded really worried about you. I had no idea any of this had happened—why didn't you tell me?"

Malachi watched her pensively. "I didn't think it pertinent or necessary."

"But you're here all alone with only Jensen to keep you company," Pan said as if it should have been obvious what his next steps should have been.

"Yeah, and?" Malachi replied with slight annoyance. He didn't like being made to feel as if he'd missed something obvious. "What's done is done and this had nothing to do with you. But since you're here," he said turning now, allowing the other further entrance, "might as well invite you in."

"Well, good. Glad to hear you've come to your senses somewhat," Pan said as she closed the door behind her.

Who did she think she was anyway? They'd spent maybe two days together. He didn't think it was grounds for telling her everything that was going on his life. Sure, they were on good terms, but certainly not to this extent.

"Not much happening today—I was just about to watch some television."

"Okay, that's fine," Pan said as she followed him, "I just wanted to check on you to see how you're doing."

"Well," he began as he took a seat on the couch in the living room, "As you can see, I'm perfectly alive."

"But certainly not well," Pan said giving him a knowing look as she took a seat beside him on the opposite end of the couch.

"I'm fine," Malachi replied in a challenging tone—he'd not meant it to be, but it had come out that way. Was he trying to convince _her_ of something? Why did he feel as if he was in trouble? He'd done nothing wrong—well, not to her at least.

"Malachi, it looks like you haven't really slept in days. I can only imagine the things that are going through your head."

"Let's hope it stays that way," he said with a sigh. "It's not worth discussing."

He felt her eyes on him as he looked at the blackened screen of the television. The remote still sat in his hand and he idly fiddled with it.

"You're right. It's probably not. But I'm always here to listen, Malachi, always. You don't have to go through this alone."

"Geez, you act like somebody died," he said glancing at her, "I'm not 'going through' anything. Our relationship just didn't work out. And pretty soon I'll be too busy to even think about it anymore."

"Tell me what happened," Pan said singularly as she sat back against the couch.

His eyebrows furrowed at this, wondering if he should answer her or continue to brush her off. She'd came all the way out here, Malachi reasoned, out of concern and truthfully perhaps there was something to be concerned about. It was easier to sweep things under the rug and pretend everything was fine, but he knew that was dangerous. He knew he should probably talk to someone other than Jensen. If the past few days had told him anything, he knew he was barely holding it together. Sleepless nights aside, his mind was often going to places he didn't want and it would stay there for long periods of time. It was a bit like quicksand, the more he struggled, the more things became worse. He'd never experienced anything like it before. Usually he would bounce back, he always did. No matter what terrible thing had happened, eventually the sadness would go away and he'd move on.

"Tell me what happened," Pan repeated but with a bit more force.

He looked at her now. Her eyes were full of concern—a fact that still surprised him. Why did she care so much? He sighed. "I told her about myself. That I was like you. I hadn't actually been planning to. I briefly considered never telling her in the first place, but I knew that I would eventually. Before I married her, she would at least have to know that…or else it wouldn't be right. Time was running out. I'd been procrastinating.

"When I told that to her, to a woman like Bra and she was finally able to grasp what I was saying, she looked at me like…" He shook his head slowly recounting the confused, disgusted look she gave him. "Like I was less than human, unworthy of her. Like there was something wrong with me—and maybe there is, but it's not something I can fix. I never imagined she would just do that so suddenly—in the middle of our date no less. It's like everything we did together, everything that I ever meant to her meant absolutely nothing. There was nothing I could _say_ ,"—one of his hands clenched around the remote—"there was nothing I could _do_ , there was just nothing there to salvage. I was talking to a brick wall. It was the worst possible reaction. I mean, I never _imagined_ that she would be so drastic, that she would just shut-down right before my eyes."

Pan moved a little closer to him. "Maybe she just needs some time to process."

Malachi shook his head. "I thought so too, but the more I think about it, the more I realize that she probably meant what she said—she was done with me. That was her final decision."

"You guys have been dating for forever," Pan said with furrowed eyebrows. "This all just seems out of the blue. And yet you sound so certain."

"You weren't there. You didn't see what she was like. She'd never talked to me like that before. It was different." He looked up briefly. "All that because I told her I don't feel the same way about sex as she does. Seriously. Who cares? I've always struggled to understand why it's so damn important or why so many people think that it can solve all their problems. Even now. Even more so now. Clearly, I'm missing something. Or it's just me. I don't know."

"It's not just you," Pan said. "But I've seen so many articles about dating advice that claim that sex is the answer, it's always the answer. It's great for exercise, it keeps the relationship exciting, if you miss out on it for a while, you start acting out. All these things. It's hilarious. Who are we to argue with the experts? It's something that's vital to life so they have to be right."

"I do think it's that way for many people. I'm sure it's quite valid for most. I wish it was for me. I wish I could _feel_ something like I know others do when it comes to that."

"You really think you're missing out?" Pan asked curiously.

"I think I wouldn't be here talking about this if I was just normal," he said wistfully, "Nothing good has ever come of it—it's always getting in the way, making things harder than it needs to be."

"Is it now?" Pan asked as if it was a statement. "You can't think of it like that. From where I stand, you're not the one with the issue and it's completely understandable why you didn't tell her about it so quickly. No one knows how a relationship will end up or whether you'll click or not. To talk about personal things like that, you both needed time to know each other better. The time spent dating is all about learning those things. Nowhere does it say that it needs to happen all at once. You told her when you felt the most comfortable to do so. I bet there's still yet things you don't know about her just as it is for her you. No one can truly know a person in the span of two years sometimes not even a lifetime. She told _you_ something about herself that day too. Now you know how easy it is for her to throw away things that you consider enduring without even a second thought. Bra has always been a bit rash, but eventually she comes to her senses."

"You're right," Malachi said slowly, "I never thought of it like that. In the past, I always felt stupid telling people upfront about things like that. People who aren't like me or you, don't even think twice about describing just how they like things. You learn that eventually as time goes on. It made me feel like we were building a relationship based on how well one could pleasure the other—and that always sounded so silly to me. I wanted to do things differently this time because I was tired of trying to explain myself."

"My thoughts exactly. Of course, my answer became I avoided the whole relationship thing altogether. But, I'm curious—I suppose this question might be a bit personal…"

"Just ask," Malachi said. It was as if they were close friends—the same phenomenon that had occurred the first time he'd met her. She had a certain way about her that immediately drew his trust.

"Clearly, you're not completely opposed to sex if you can still do it convincingly with others. I just don't understand how you do it."

"I was never opposed to it in the first place. I just didn't understand it and…I did what I always do when I don't understand something."

"You researched."

"Yeah, from all the places one is supposed to be turned on. Porn, strip clubs, other questionable settings…It was all quite mindboggling even still, but I'd seen enough to emulate. It wasn't something I did on my own—I can't take all the credit. With Bra, it's different. When you actually care for a person even if you get no enjoyment out of it, it's enough that _she_ does."

"I see. Guess I've never loved anyone quite that much before. You said before that you weren't looking for a soulmate, but the way you talk about Bra…"

"I suppose it's different now—or at least it was. I don't know and I don't want to jump to conclusions. It's a little late to be thinking like that."

"I don't think this so-called break-up is as permanent as you think. This is more like a 'Bra seriously needs to cool down and think' period."

"Hm. Well, you know her better, but I'm not holding my breath."

"I'll talk to her," Pan volunteered.

"Don't," Malachi said stolidly. "Please don't. It won't amount to anything and it would be so…desperate. Nothing worse than trying to pursue someone who isn't into you anymore. If I was in that person's shoes, I'd be annoyed. I've said all that I could and she's made her decision," he said with a sigh. His eyes had returned to the television, finding solace there once again.

"So, doom and gloom. All this 'it's final' talk is getting really tiring. If she called you right now, would you take her back?"

"Like a fool, I would."

Pan giggled which drew a glance from him. "Sorry—it's just sometimes you're so _open_ with your feelings. I like it."

"Only with you, Pan. Maybe you missed your calling in life; being a psychologist."

"I'll take that as a compliment though I've never been told that before. I'm largely ignored in my very small group of friends unless there's a fight involved."

"Shame," Malachi said singularly.

"I hope you're ready for what I have planned today," Pan said with a smile. "I didn't just come here to talk, you know. From what Jensen told me, you 'need to hang out with more adults'."

"He said that?" Malachi said with a laugh despite himself. "If I wanted to do that, I would."

"Gonna' call up your celebrity pals? Too big to hang out with us commoners?" Pan teased. "I'm only joking," she said when she saw his face. "Marron's gonna' be here any second. There may or may not be karaoke involved."

"You're killing me, Pan, I really didn't want to do anything today," Malachi said with a sigh as he looked towards the floor.

"All the more reason to do it. You can't just stay cooped up here like this all by yourself."

By now, Malachi noticed that Pan had moved closer to him. She was all smiles and positivity yet none of it seemed to be rubbing off on him. He could tell her to leave and shut her out completely, but something told him that she'd done some actual planning for all this. How long ago had Jensen called her?

"I could," Malachi said back.

"But you shouldn't and I'll drag you out the house if need be."

"I wouldn't put it past you. When's this Marron supposed to be here?"

"Anytime now," Pan said shaking her head. "She's not the most punctual person in the world."

"Good," Malachi said. "Prolonging the inevitable."

"You look tired," Pan said after a long moment when nothing was said for a while.

He'd been looking down, head in his hands for longer than he'd anticipated. His eyes were closed but he wasn't asleep as usual. He felt her hand on his shoulder probably out of concern. Maybe it was his imagination, but it seemed as if she was inviting him to move closer. He didn't feel like trying to figure out if this was the case or not. Instead, he did what he realized he wanted to do at that moment and laid across her lap. He received no protests from the other. In fact, she readjusted herself to make it a bit more comfortable for him. Just like the other two Saiyans that he'd met, she was warm like a furnace and as always, he was the opposite. Though he probably still wouldn't fall asleep in this position, it was nice nonetheless. He preferred the closeness of a woman over all other things designed to make one feel comfortable. His eyes were still closed—it was better than staring at something for an eternity.

"You know I can't just go out like you guys can," Malachi finally said to her. "It's not so easy. Even disguises don't always work and when it goes wrong, it turns into a shit-storm."

"Yeah, I know. Must be so weird having so many people know who you are at any given time."

"At first," Malachi admitted, "But then I got used to it. I try to be as accommodating as possible to them. I'm forever looking through my e-mail. I'll never actually get to see all of them, but I try anyway."

"You've done that recently? Looked through your e-mail?"

"No, actually. I guess I've been…distracted."

"Hm," Pan said thoughtfully, "Maybe you should. It might be helpful."

"Helpful to what?"

"To put things more in perspective. Sometimes we get stuck in our own heads, in our own world, focusing on the negative instead of the positive. For you, it's a little different. There are literally thousands of people who you affect on a daily basis for the better. Your music enriches people's lives."

"Thank you," Malachi said instead of all the negative thoughts that had come to mind. Praises were always hard to take when he thought so little about himself as he did then.

"I really mean that," Pan reinforced.

"I know," Malachi replied. "I'm really glad for that. I love all my fans."

"That's relieving to hear," Pan said. "I've always wondered about things like that—whether people just get tired of getting all the accolades after a while. It's on such a regular basis, so commonplace that it might lose its significance."

He felt as her hand gently ran through his hair. He made no protests to this.

"I doubt that would ever happen," Malachi said. "Without their support, well, I certainly wouldn't be here. Who knows if I'd even be alive."

"You seem like a resourceful guy. Don't sell yourself short. Look how easily you caught on to fighting. It's kind of inspiring to see a human learn so quickly. Maybe we're not as helpless as everyone assumes."

"You ask any other person and I'm sure they'd think the same. I've never thought of myself as weak, most people don't anyways. Sure, training is helpful, genetics as well, but it's the mindset that matters the most. If you treat someone as if they're weak, then they will be, but if you encourage them, if you tell them that they are strong, then they will be. All this 'he's strong because he's a Saiyan' or 'you can't do that because you're human' will pretty much stanch any growth there might have been otherwise."

"A bit of a tangent, but I can tell you feel strongly about that."

"I do," Malachi admitted.

"Maybe you'd be interested in demonstrating your skills to me again eventually—just like last time."

"Not right now," Malachi said wearily. "Think I just want to get back into the studio again. It's been a while."

"I see. You really do like doing music. The way you trained so hard it seemed like you were passionate about fighting as well."

"Can I not like both?"

"You can, but it's a rare thing. A world class entertainer who can also hold his own in a serious battle."

"Sounds silly," Malachi said at once. "On paper, it would sound worse."

Pan laughed at this. "Perhaps you're right, but that's exactly how I think of you."

He wondered if she would continue showering him with compliments—it was becoming only a little annoying. He didn't have anything to say to this so he didn't bother with responding. At the very least, he felt quite relaxed after days of anxiousness and sleeplessness. She was talking again, but he wasn't listening as he began to drift off. Were it not for the eventuality of having to go anywhere that day, it would have been perfect. Maybe they'd just go without him if they saw how tired he was and that it would be rude to be awakened for something as frivolous as an impromptu outing.

* * *

 **"Malachi?" Pan said when the other hadn't responded.** She'd inquired about when he was planning on working again. When she called his name one more time, she realized that he was likely asleep—a fact which brought a smile to her face.

"This won't last long," Pan said out loud as she continued to stroke his dark, silky hair. "You two will find each other again. I can see that you really love her and I can't imagine Bra not feeling the same way—not the way she bragged about you. It's just like her, you know, to crush people's hearts without even a second thought to the consequences. She's done it to me plenty of times and yet I still want to be her friend. That's the kind of person you fell for. I hope it doesn't destroy you in the end. There's only so much emotional pain one can take and Bra, well, she's never aware of those kinds of things."

Pan thought back on that time when Bra had called her, completely irate about yet another thing that Malachi had done. She'd receive calls like these from time to time from Bra with any guy that she happened to be dating. Often it was petty and Pan would try to steer her towards understanding rather than conflict. That was easier said than done as it was difficult to convince Bra to see things from other's perspectives and that she was just as fallible as the next person. In general, people didn't just do less than savory things to others for no reason. Usually there was a reason and in many of Bra's cases, it was a valid one.

"I can't believe what that bastard has done," Bra had said angrily over the phone one night to Pan. It was quite late, in fact, almost midnight.

"Malachi?" Pan asked wearily. At this point, Bra had broken it off with Malachi since he was apparently too dangerous to be around.

"Yes! Who else? He had my hopes up the entire time—he knew _exactly_ what he was doing. He just _ignored_ me and pretended to be way more interested in Machi. Yeah right. Then he just drops this bomb on me: he's been seeing this slut Lilith and now she's pregnant."

"What?" Pan said surprised. "That seems…so unlike him at least what you described about him." At this point, Pan had not really hung out with the actual Malachi other than that time at the karaoke bar when he'd first met Bra, but he'd been in disguise the entire time.

"Can you believe it? You know how long it took for me to fuck that guy and now he just gives it away like it's free candy?"

"Something else must be going on."

"Like what?"

"He's hurting too just like you."

"I am not. _I_ broke it off with _him_."

"For the past year, you've been bragging about him. He sounds like a really sweet, sensitive guy. It hurts when you break it off with people. You don't just bounce back from that. And isn't he still dealing with Laputa? Like, didn't he have to move far away so that he could regain some sense of normalcy or something like that? I guy like that isn't exactly thinking straight."

"So he ignored me for no reason? I don't even think Laputa is _really_ affecting him as much as he says. I mean, he seemed fine and he's already seeing some other girl."

"Alright," Pan said taking a deep breath. This was going to be a long conversation and she'd first have to get to the bottom of things. Information directly from Bra would already be slanted in her favor. She would have to try and see through this. "How did he ignore you? Did he never make eye contact with you? Did he not acknowledge you when he stepped in the house? No 'Hi, Bra'?"

"No, it wasn't like that. We talked. It's just…" her voice was becoming a bit unsure, struggling how to bend the story in her favor without outright lying. "He seemed so happy to see Machi—I didn't expect that. Like maybe he was overexaggerating."

"Overexaggerating? You've never seen him that excited before?" Pan asked.

"Well…no, I don't know, but definitely not about babies."

"You've seen him react differently to other babies that were his?" Pan asked with a subtle sarcastic tone, but Bra caught on.

"Okay, smart aleck, you know what I mean."

"I don't," Pan said with a chuckle. "Did you ever stop to think that he might be excited about your pregnancy that perhaps he _wanted_ to have a child with you? You realize that Machi is his first born. Everything that's happened since Laputa has been completely out of his control and yet it's the reason you two aren't together anymore. That doesn't mean he's completely done with you emotionally—it just doesn't work like that. I don't see why he wouldn't want to be a part of Machi's life—the real Malachi not the…Laputa version. Did he ever give you the impression that he was upset that you were pregnant?"

"No…" Bra said thoughtfully.

"Then he's the opposite. This was his first meeting, right?"

"Yes," Bra confirmed.

"Alright then. There you go. Doesn't seem out of the ordinary for him to be excited perhaps even more so than usual. If there was any underhandedness in his reaction, maybe it was in trying to convince you that he wanted to be part of Machi's life."

Bra didn't respond immediately and Pan hoped the other was finally able to see a fuller picture of the situation. "I never thought of it that way. He was a natural with her, you know. He said he did a lot of research on babies so that he'd know what to do. Really, it was kind of cute. It made me feel…" her voice had become solemn, but then just like that her anger returned. "That's not what I called you for. He had an affair with another woman and impregnated her in the span of a few months."

"It's perfectly fine for him to see other women if you're not with him anymore and it wouldn't be called an affair."

"Who's side are you on anyway?" Bra growled.

"The side of levelheadedness and fairness."

"What about the pregnancy part? This is Malachi we're talking about."

"I have no idea what was going through his head. My guess is that he's like you—he doesn't do well on his own and he doesn't like it so he tries to fill that gap with someone as soon as possible. Maybe one thing just led to another. What I don't get is why _you're_ so angry if you already broke it off with him? You still care about him, don't you?"

"He should have known, Pan. He should have just known. I want to start over with him, but it's impossible now."

"I'm sorry. I really am. He's fallen for someone else?"

"No," Bra said at once. "He told me he only saw her as a friend."

"Oh, I see…A friend with benefits. I wouldn't say it's impossible then. It'll just be a bit more complicated and it depends on how much you're willing to compromise."

"I don't compromise, Pan."

"Then I think you have your answer."

In the end, she did compromise. She took him back, but not after hearing the news about Lilith's death. Pan couldn't help but wonder if the situation would have been different had Lilith been alive. Still, the entire thing sounded so odd. Knowing what she now knew about Malachi, it sounded even stranger. The looming threat of loneliness must have been a powerful driver for Malachi to the point that he would do things he didn't particularly like just to avoid it. He desperately wanted a friend, likely a female one, and that desperation was never more apparent than with Lilith. She'd taken advantage of him—at the very least, it seemed that way. She'd asked Malachi about Lilith and he seemed to support her suppositions. Perhaps he wasn't the best at choosing friends.

Pan wanted to prevent a repeat of last time. She'd be there for him so that he didn't wound up doing something stupid. It was easy enough for her to do especially since she adored him. Any excuse to be around him more often would do. She held no illusions about their relationship, however. While she thought she'd be perfect for Malachi, he simply did not see her that way. Love couldn't be forced and she knew that he loved Bra even after all of this. She hoped the feeling was still mutual so that she wouldn't have to continue seeing him like this. Even if this split was permanent, it didn't guarantee that she would have a chance with him in the first place. She couldn't bring herself to sabotage whatever he had with Bra; she wouldn't be able to live with herself.

She took out her cellphone after a while not willing to move and disturb his precious sleep. She texted Marron inquiring where she was and if she was on her way. Marron confirmed that she was with a simple response no more than three words long. One would find it difficult to hold a decent conversation with the taciturn woman. The front door was unlocked as far as Pan knew; she hadn't seen Malachi lock it after he let her in. She told Marron to just come in once she got to the place and the security code to get past the gate—one that Jensen had told her.

* * *

 **As it turned out, it was almost an hour later before Marron set foot into the house.** She'd come from her boyfriend's place which was a long ways out closer to where Pan lived than Malachi.

"Geez, this guy is filthy rich, isn't he?" Pan heard Marron say as soon as she stepped in. "There's a gate and everything out there."

One thing that could easily put Marron into a good mood was being around expensive things. Pan didn't think it made her shallow, but, at the very least, predictable.

Pan wanted to shout and say she was in the living room, but settled with a text. Soon, Marron made her way to them.

"Not even five seconds and you have that man laying all over you," Marron said teasingly.

"It's not like that," Pan argued at once. "We're just friends and…he's really tired."

"Yeah, yeah," Marron said dismissively as her eyes looked around the place thoroughly examining everything. She made her way to the impressively large flat screen TV. "Man, this TV is razor thin. I bet the picture quality is insane. Of course, rich people get rich things."

"You better not take anything," Pan said as she watched the other run a hand over the edge of the TV.

Marron laughed at this. "Calm down. I'm not that desperate. Yet." She was turned away from Pan as she continued to run her hands over it. "So wake him up already. It's already the afternoon. I didn't come all this way for nothing."

Pan nudged Malachi only a little and he was quickly stirred to wakefulness. Clearly, he hadn't been sleeping all that deeply despite her efforts. It hadn't been that long, but it still concerned her that he looked no less tired than before.

"What?" he asked confusedly. He'd been turned away from her and he must have already seen Marron standing in front of the television.

"Time to get up. Marron's here," Pan said cheerfully.

He sat up slowly, giving her a brief glance.

"I don't think you two have been introduced properly," Pan said just as Marron turned to look at him. "Malachi, _this_ is Marron. And Marron—

"Yeah, I know who he is. Everybody knows who he is," Marron said matter-of-factly. "Now that the introductions are out the way—where in the world did you get this TV?"

"Ugh, Marron, really?" Pan asked wearily.

Malachi shrugged at this. "I have no idea. I had someone else furnish the place."

"Hm, must be nice. Guess you don't know how much it cost you either."

"No, but I could find out."

"Nevermind that," Marron said seemingly already done with the topic. "Let's get going already."

"Sorry, didn't know I'd fall asleep," Malachi said apologetically. "It's going to take me a little bit to get ready—that's if you guys still insist on going somewhere."

"Well…" Pan began slowly.

"No, we are definitely going somewhere. I haven't been out the house in forever," Marron said with crossed arms.

"Well, then that settles it," Malachi said with a sigh.

"I promise it'll be fun," Pan said drawing his eyes to her. "I think it'll be good for you."

"Chin up, superstar," Marron said. "In the grand scheme of things, you have everything to be happy about."

"Right," Malachi replied as he stood. "Well, I'll be back in a few."

And that was that as Pan watched him disappear.

"Can you believe that guy," Marron said as she began to walk slowly around the room touching other paraphernalia. "He looks like his dog just died yet lives in this kind of luxury all day."

"Money isn't everything," Pan said wearily.

"Sure, but it can buy anything. If Bra let him go, then why waste time still thinking about her? I bet she hasn't even spared him a second thought. I don't get why people do that when they break up."

"We can't all turn off our 'relationship' switches at the drop of a dime like you, Marron," Pan said rolling her eyes.

"It's not that. It's just. Why care for someone who doesn't care about you?"

"You know, Marron, I could ask you the same thing."

That shut her up quickly. Anything referring to the dicey situation she was in with her boyfriend had that same affect unless she actually wanted to talk about it. It was private and only Pan knew about it. Not even her parents knew.

"It's not the same," Marron said with a frown.

She was not perturbed for long as her eyes were drawn to the riches that decorated the room. A painting caught her attention and she stood in front of it for a while. Pan decided to drop the subject and instead talk about what they were planning to do that day. Karaoke was a must, but they would go there last. Marron really wanted to check out the national park. She insisted that it would look beautiful at this time of the year, but it was a little ways from here. If they couldn't make it there, Pan suggested a huge new mall that she'd never been to before that they could browse through—not to mention a new soft pretzel joint that was drawing a lot of attention.

They were soon enjoying watching television though they hadn't decided which place to go to. Pan had expected that they'd already be off, but time was growing short. Malachi didn't come out until almost an hour later and he looked quite different. He wore black cargo pants. A zipper went across each knee and he chose to wear them unzipped revealing dark mesh material beneath. Metal spikes decorated the area above and below the zipper. He wore black military styled boots that were loosely tied up and the lid was spread open like a blooming tulip. Though the boots had a faded, used look to them, Pan suspected that it was intentional. His mostly mesh shirt was a bit revealing and showed a good portion of his chest. Five black belts that were buckled across his midsection showed small portions of his abdomen. The light cotton material of his shirt darkened right across the bottom section. The sides of the shirt, the shoulders and back were all covered with the same material, but his sleeves were completely mesh.

Clearly, he was wearing a wig because his hair was lime green, but it seemed to suit his face, at the very least. It was a bit curly, framing his face and fell down to his shoulders, full and voluminous. His eyebrows were still dark along with his eyes though she noticed he was wearing heavy eyeliner. Surrounding his head was a black loose-fitting hood like one might find on some elaborate cloak, but instead this hood was attached to a very tight-fitting partially mesh shirt. He at first wore a very unamused expression, but Marron's shocked reaction was hard to ignore and he soon wore a subtle grin.

"What the _hell_ are you wearing? Are we supposed to take you seriously?" Marron asked.

"I'm in disguise," he said. Pan noticed his voice was a bit lighter than usual. "Might have painted my nails, but that would have taken too long," he said casually as he briefly brought up his hands and observed them with a swift movement of his fingers.

"Wow…I don't think anyone is going to recognize you now," Pan said studying him thoroughly. "Didn't know you were pulling out your douche gothic disguise today," she finished with a laugh.

"Alright, quite gawking. Let's just get this thing over with."

It was hard to stifle her laughter. He'd taken a complete departure from his usual style and only needed a guitar to finish the look. Karaoke would be interesting. For now, they were finally leaving the house. Marron suggested they take Malachi's top down convertible and he had no objections to this. Pan decided to do the driving. Marron sat in the passenger seat after Malachi claimed that he liked having the backseat to himself.

"So where to first?" Pan asked them when she started up the car.

"The national park," Marron said immediately.

"Or the new mall," Pan suggested.

"But it's not like we could buy anything crazy at the mall—at least I can't."

"We've been to that park a dozen times before," Pan argued.

Malachi hadn't said a word as the two discussed once again the pros and cons of the places they chose. This wasn't nearly as planned out as she had wanted it to be and Malachi seemed largely unengaged. When she turned to look back at him, his eyes were closed and he sat back against the seat leaning against the door's interior. She could sense that he wasn't asleep however.

"Where do you want to go?" Pan asked aloud to Malachi.

He was silent for a moment longer before answering. "The park. Been to the mall a lot. Less people to recognize me."

"Hm? Don't want to wound up spending money on us?" Marron asked teasingly. "Of course."

"Marron," Pan said warningly.

"Then the mall," Malachi said before Pan could say anything further. "Less walking. Safer. I heard those pretzels were quite good too."

"You never had them?" Pan asked. "But you've been there before?"

"Never had a mind to. And I'm feeling generous. You ladies can get whatever you want."

"Suddenly, the mall is sounding like a much better venture," Marron said with a grin. "Isn't it, Pan?"

"Oh, stop it," Pan said hitting the other playfully in the arm. "You're being _so_ obvious."

"What would you say to getting me a new TV," Marron said as she turned in her seat to the nonchalant Malachi.

He shrugged in response. "Whatever you want."

Marron tested the waters further. "How about a new TV, a huge grill, and a car?"

"I don't care," he said with a sigh.

"Seriously, Marron?" Pan asked.

"What? The man said he'd get us anything," Marron said with a laugh. "Isn't that right?" she asked to Malachi.

"Right. I hate repeating myself," Malachi said back.

"Think I'm starting to like this guy," Marron said with a full smile now. "Hurry up, already, Pan. Let's go. Daylight's burning!"

Pan sighed exasperatedly as she finally pulled out of the driveway. Marron was right. Time was getting away from them, but that didn't mean she liked how things were turning out.

"Malachi, you know you don't have to do all that for us," Pan said.

"It's not a big deal. Didn't you want some pretzels? Get as many as you like."

"Seriously, Malachi. We're not here to make you spend money on us," Pan said back.

"You're beginning to sound like a broken record," Malachi replied now with some annoyance in his tone. He sat up a little straighter in the seat. "Turn on some music already."

Marron pressed on the radio icon on the flat screen dashboard and immediately turned it to her favorite channel which played all the recent popular music at the time. Then she turned up the volume much further than what Pan had anticipated as a song was already playing.

"I _love_ this song!" Marron shouted over the noise.

Pan had half a mind to turn down the ruckus—it wasn't a song that she particularly liked, but she'd heard it many times. Marron was already singing raucously to it not paying any mind to staying on key. Pan reached her hand out, to touch the volume controls, but stopped when she heard Malachi joining in. He'd leaned forward as well. It was the most animated he'd been since he'd stepped into the car. With a sigh, she simply let it be and then joined in herself. The melody was hard and driving. Clearly it drew its roots from a more country sound, but the words were easy to catch on to. Her hands were clapping, his hands were clapping—they both sang with reckless abandon. At the very least, she enjoyed that they were having fun. It was getting a bit difficult to even pay attention to the road—she might have sped up a little bit in her growing excitement.

"Hold on, hold on!" Marron shouted after the song was over. She turned down the radio as another song started playing. She looked over at Malachi. "Shit, you can _really_ sing. That sounded surprisingly good."

"Thanks," he said modestly though laughing as well.

"Seriously, I always think people are doing stuff to their voices to make them sound better on stage. I mean, it's a big thing now. Everybody does it. A little autotune here, some tweaking there and viola. They got special mics for that kind of stuff. And you _know_ they manipulate people's voices in the studio."

"Well, I've never done that—at least when it isn't absolutely necessary. Listen, that's really me out there singing and that's really me out there dancing—I work damn hard for every gig. I put everything I have out there."

"That's incredible. That's really something," Marron said nodding in acceptance. "I might even start actually listening to your music."

"I would be honored," he said.

Marron went to turn up the volume again, but Malachi stopped her.

"So," he said leaning a bit on Pan's headrest. "What is it you do, Marron?"

"Nothing you need to be concerned with," she said with a grin.

"Any boyfriends? Girlfriends?" Malachi asked.

Pan glanced over at Malachi wondering if such a question was appropriate.

"One boyfriend," Marron said back playfully.

"I see. So you have a job that I don't need to be concerned with and a boyfriend. And that's all I know about you. Aside from being Krillen's daughter."

"That's all you need to know, stranger."

"Oh, I'm a stranger now," he replied in an amused tone.

"Yep. We'll see if that changes by the end of the day."

Malachi reached forward and turned up the music once again. Pan could tell that Marron didn't know this song half as well as the last one, but she was all too willing to sing to it with Malachi. He eventually sat back in the backseat taking advantage of all the space. He didn't bother with a seatbelt as he overdramatically sang out loud. Yes, Pan thought to herself, he would most certainly enjoy karaoke. Pan hadn't been completely sure how much joy he got from singing until that moment.

Though they didn't carry on for the entire ride to the mall—thank goodness!—it did continue for some time. Pan joined in the best she could, but she didn't know nearly as many songs as the other two. She felt a little left out as a result. Despite this, her own anticipation for their destination increased as they got closer. In the last thirty minutes of the ride, they'd all settled down again. Marron was in rare form talking her ear off about what she wanted to get at the mall. Pan was only now growing used to the idea that she could get anything she wanted—she still hadn't figured out just what that was. Pretzels were a must, but anything else, she supposed she would just have to see once she got there. She lived in a small apartment, so she wasn't going to get anything not befitting of such a place. Malachi, on his part had stretched out on the backseat, laying down on his back and perusing through his e-mail. Whenever he found something particularly funny or strange, he'd read it out to them.

"Aren't you glad I dragged you out the house?" Pan asked to Malachi when there was a lull in conversation.

"Too early to tell," he said with a snort. "Depends on how good those pretzels are."

"Well, _I'm_ having a blast," Marron said excitedly, "And all I've done is sit in a car for over an hour. I'm a simple girl with simple wants."

"Yeah, who simply wants a TV, a car, and a grill," Malachi said with a laugh.

"That's the icing on the cake," Marron said back, "But it's nice to get out the house every once in a while."

"Are you a stay-at-home mom or something?" Malachi asked.

"None of your business, stranger," Marron said teasingly.

"We're back to that again?" he asked clearly amused.

"Convince me otherwise," she said grinning.

She winked at Pan after she said this, but Pan wasn't altogether certain what she was doing.

"Maybe I will," he said back.

Marron quickly typed something on her phone and then held it up to Pan's face so that she could read: _Just trying to get him more involved. Seems like he likes a challenge._ Pan shook her head with a half-smile. In her own way, Pan suppose she was helping, but she was just being her usual, mysterious self who didn't talk about personal things to most people. Pan suspected that she knew more about Marron than anyone else in the world.

Pan was glad when they finally made it to the mall. Marron was quite energetic and Malachi's lukewarm energy was, at least, a little more jovial. Tonight was going to be fun.


	54. Lemonade & Smoothie

**"These pretzels are incredible," Malachi said upon trying one.**

Pan agreed wholeheartedly with him. They were like warm pillows of bread and salt that melted in one's mouth. Instead of getting separate containers, Malachi simply bought one large one that they all shared along with a giant cup of lemonade. He claimed he wasn't that hungry and Marron was perfectly fine with sharing the rest with Pan. The lemonade was initially for Pan, but eventually she was sharing with Marron. The three of them had passed quite a few clothing shops which drew eyerolls from Marron each time.

"Ugh! Let's find a more exciting store," Marron complained. "You know—videogames or perfumes."

"Or books and board games," Pan said further.

Pan noticed, however, that Malachi was quite interested in the clothing stores as his eyes stayed on them longer.

"I have an idea," Malachi said with a half-smile gracing his face, "How about I buy both of you one whole outfit that you'll then have to wear for the rest of the day?"

"Who needs Bra when we have Malachi?" Marron said with yet another eyeroll.

"What do you mean?" Malachi asked mystified.

"She always does that whenever she drags us out to shop," Pan explained, "And she always gives us sluttier outfits, but it's okay 'cus she's a girl. However, a guy—"

"Who do you think I am?" Malachi said nonchalantly, "I'd never choose something overtly revealing—that's more Bra's style. I'd choose something that enhances what you already naturally have."

"If we agree to this," Marron said speaking up, "What's in it for us? I don't know about Pan, but I'm definitely not in the habit of letting cute guys dress me even if they are superstars. I better be getting something out of it if I'm going to let you decide what I'm wearing."

"Think I'm siding with Marron on this," Pan said not liking the idea of being dressed by someone else.

"Hm, fair point," Malachi said thoughtfully as he stopped at a clothing store. The two of them followed suit. "How about I let both of you choose which songs I sing at karaoke?"

"No, I got one better. You sing a song with us," Marron replied.

"How about I do both?" Malachi said with a shrug.

"R-Really?" Pan asked. Never in a million years did she think she'd share a stage with Malachi—he practically transformed up there, something magical always happened. She'd be able to experience it too if she was by his side when it happened. She wasn't entirely sure on that last part, but it would still be pretty cool to see it up close. Maybe it wouldn't be as exciting as her mind was making it, maybe the magic would disappear if she examined it too thoroughly, but she was willing to take that chance.

"Well, I said it," Malachi replied walking ahead towards the store. "C'mon, ladies, I already have something in mind."

Pan was trying to see where his eyes were looking. The store seemed to cater specifically to women in their age range so Pan couldn't be sure. At the very least, he wasn't looking at the provocative active wear on the other side of the store. He stopped short as he approached a section of tops.

"Wait in the dressing room. I won't be long," he said aloud to them.

Pan glanced at Marron who already had a dubious expression on her face. Marron wasn't particularly fond of being bossed around and it had definitely caused many arguments between her and Bra. Of course, Malachi could not have known this, but perhaps he sensed her unease as he turned to her. She'd been sipping on the lemonade and still had her lips around the straw. Malachi, who hadn't drunk anything the entire time gently took the cup from her hand and took a nice long swig and then slowly slid his lips away with an almost mischievous smile before passing it back to her.

"Refreshing," he remarked. "You're going to love what I have in store for you."

Marron couldn't help but laugh, "I can hardly take you seriously with lime green hair. I'll be awaiting your ridiculous fashion choices." With this, she placed her lips upon the straw, but did nothing more but lick the rim of it before handing it back to him wearing a sly grin. "Can't have food or drink in the dressing room."

One of Pan's eyebrows rose in slight confusion, but then she proceeded to handing him her pretzel bites only for Malachi to hold his hand out to stop her. "I'm sure they won't notice a few pretzel bites," he said dismissively.

"But we simply _must_ hide the drink that's _much_ smaller than this carton of pretzels?" Pan asked with hands akimbo.

"Oh, I don't know," Malachi began nonchalantly, "Suddenly, I'm feeling quite thirsty and this lemonade is _perfect_."

Marron snorted loudly and Pan was sure she might have missed something.

"C'mon, Pan! To the dressing room!" Marron said loudly as she grabbed her arm and dragged her along.

When they were far enough away, Pan stopped her before they went into separate stalls. "Don't think I don't know what you two are doing," Pan said in frustrated tones. "I'm not that naïve."

"And what are we doing?" Marron said rolling her eyes once again that day.

"Flirting, obviously. Are you seriously trying to sabotage—"

"Now hold on, white knight, must you take everything at face value? We're just having some fun. You should try it sometime. I even learned something new just now."

"What's that?"

"Not all aces are as uptight as you are."

Pan was taken aback by her frankness, but she shouldn't have been surprised. Marron didn't exactly have a filter. "Well I'm glad you found that out. I'm not uptight. I'm just extremely sensible. Maybe _you_ should try being that sometimes."

Marron laughed out loud at this. "Good one, Pan."

The two of them continued into the stalls. They were beside each other and the walls were thin so they could still easily talk.

"Seriously, though, when you told me that Malachi was ace like you were, I wasn't all that thrilled about coming down to hang out with you two. Without Bra, it's not all that fun to be honest."

"Tell me how you _really_ feel, Marron," Pan said sardonically.

"Now, it's even better. We've found a suitable replacement who's way less annoying and self-absorbed. Now that I think about it—he'd be perfect for Bra."

"You're just now figuring this out?" Pan asked in disbelief.

"Well, I've never really met him. Bra has him on a special leash—that poor, jealous, insecure woman. Bet she'd love the fact that he's now surrounded by two women who happen to be her friends," Marron said laughing.

"Let's not focus on that. We are trying to cheer him up. That's all. Neither one of us are going to do _anything_ funny today."

"Oh? Is he off-limits?"

"You know what I mean."

"Yeah, sure. And if he suddenly told you that he was head-over-heels for you, I'm sure all bets would be off."

"That's not fair!" Pan said a little too loudly. She took a deep breath before continuing. She didn't want to cause alarm from the retail associates. "Look, you know it's been hard for me, finding someone who understands me."

Marron sighed. Pan heard the wall beside her creak and then bend slightly as Marron leaned against it. "You need more than understanding. That's only the first step. You gotta', you know, connect on some deeper level. Actually fall in love. Something about you has to resonate with the other person."

"Is that why he totally overlooked me on that day?" Pan said quietly. "I saw him first, you know."

"Yeah, I know," Marron said. "But from the start, he only had eyes for Bra. I knew it so I didn't bother."

"Then what are you doing now?" Bra asked.

"Like I said, having some fun. It's no secret—the guy's really cute—and he's far cuter when he's smiling rather than frowning all the time. I'm just doing us all a favor. I'd like to have something nice to look at if I'm being forced to hang out with him."

"Oh, please, like you weren't dying to have an excuse to go somewhere."

"You got me there."

Someone cleared their throat nearby thoroughly startling Pan. "Malachi?" she asked in surprise as she looked down and spied his boots.

"Interesting conversation," she heard what was unmistakably Malachi say.

"What?! How long were you standing there? What did you hear?" Pan asked in panicked tones.

"I found the perfect outfits for you two," Malachi said ignoring her questions altogether and in a tone that was frustratingly unperturbed. "Pan, you don't mind skirts, do you?"

"Ah, no. I do wear them sometimes. What are you trying—"

"Just wondering," he interrupted. "Didn't want to pick something you absolutely hated to wear."

"I'm _not_ just a tomboy, you know. I can wear girly things. I can fix my hair up nice if I really wanted to."

"Ugh, you're killing me," Marron said with a groan.

"I see nothing wrong with your personal style. You're good just the way you are. Fair warning though, this might be out of your comfort zone a little."

This quieted Pan as she unlocked and opened the door. From a side-glance, she could see that Marron had already done the same. He held quite a bit of clothing draped over his arms and there were two stacked shoeboxes situated in between their respective stalls. When had he set them there? Had he returned more than once? It made her that much more anxious about what he must have overheard. He, however, seemed largely unconcerned with this as he began passing her the clothing items he'd picked out for her. He handed her a small, peach colored skirt. Upon further inspection, she noted that it had two layers and the material was quite soft and light. Then he handed her a dark blouse with peach ends to the sleeve to be rolled up and a peach collar—both pieces made of the same soft, light material as the skirt. To Pan's surprise, the small package containing sheer laced tights were for her. Then he took the top most shoebox and presented it to her. She'd agreed to a change of outfit, but not her shoes. Malachi really was giving them a bit of a makeover. Of course, he could get away with doing such things simply because he was Malachi. Then again, she'd told Marron that they were supposed to be cheering him up. Something told her though that she might have found herself in the same situation regardless.

"Sure you got the right size?" Pan asked as she quickly placed the clothes in the stall.

He grinned at her. "Let me know if something doesn't fit—I was guessing, but I'm usually right about that sort of thing," he said with far too much confidence in Pan's opinion.

"We'll just have to see then," Pan said back.

She could see already that Marron's clothing was darker toned than hers and there was a black leather jacket involved. Marron giggled as she was handed things.

"I would never be caught _dead_ in these," Pan heard Marron comment as she shut the door to her stall and began undressing.

"Something to match your personality," Malachi explained smoothly.

Pan almost rolled her eyes at this as her pace quickened. Did he think she was childish and innocent and Marron the complete opposite? It had not escaped her that he'd chosen lighter, friendly colors for her. She'd agreed to this, however, and she at least wanted to see if Malachi had any sort of fashion sense. She was already pulling on the sheer tights. There was a flowery design sewn in with darker thread much to her annoyance. "Flowers. Of course," Pan said under her breath. She slid on the delicate two-layered peach skirt and it fit her waist perfectly. The skirt had a flowing feel to it, but the length was mid-thigh which was a bit shorter than what she normally wore. Finally, she pulled on the shirt and realized that it went quite well with the skirt. The light sweater had a loose, comfortable fit, but still wrapped around her well—it was flattering to her figure giving her a fuller look. Pan personally liked the peach colored cuffs to the sweater which contrasted starkly to the dark sweater and was neatly folded with a button.

"Now for the shoes," Pan said to herself as she kicked the lid off the box.

Inside were peach colored heeled boots with laces of the same color. Pan _adored_ boots and these were especially cute. When she placed her feet in, she found that it was a perfect fit. She bent down to tie them up securely and then finally stood up in front of the mirror to evaluate herself. It was a very simplistic look and a bit like a school girl only school girls wouldn't wear skirts that were this short. She did feel, admittedly, cuter and a lot lighter than she had been. She'd been wearing jeans and a red hoodie—a far cry from this sophistication. The peach laced boots brought it all together in her opinion.

"Psst, you ready yet?" Marron said in quiet tones through the thin wall.

"Yeah, as ready as I'll ever be," Pan said wearily.

"Alright, on three, we'll step out at the same time."

Marron counted down and then the two of them opened the doors to the stalls at the same time. Malachi had had his back to the stalls, but eventually turned upon hearing them. The smile he wore was completely out of place with his own gothic look, but she was glad to see it.

"You two look perfect," he said.

It was the first time Pan could see what Marron had on. Instantly, she was a bit jealous. The black leather jacket alone must have costed more than her entire outfit. It was an asymmetrical half-jacket with gold detail revealing a sunflower yellow shirt beneath it. As far as she could tell, Marron wore jeggings. It was a mix of burgundy and black set in a marble like pattern and she wore black combat boots, but they differed from Malachi's in that they were fresh looking and laced all the way up. They were not the "dainty" combat boots with heels. These looked far more authentic and it did match her personality. Marron rarely ever wore heels anyway and probably would have failed miserably trying to walk through a mall with them on. Pan too could feel Marron's eyes passing over her quickly and saw as a chiefly smile came to the other's face.

"Man, he's got you pegged," Marron laughed. "I'm jealous of your boots."

Marron generally wore light or pastel colors and was fond of dresses and skirts. Pan had never seen Marron in such street fashion, but it suited her. She appeared like a different person or at least more like her personality suggested.

"Well, _I'm_ jealous of your jacket," Pan said back.

"No need to be jealous," Malachi said nonchalantly with his hands crossed behind his head. "If you want it, then I'll get it for you."

"Really?" Marron said who immediately liked this idea, "Then, in that case—show me where you found those boots. Peach is one of my favorite colors."

"Seriously, Marron?" Pan groaned.

But Malachi was already moving off towards the shoes and Marron followed gleefully and soon Pan along with her. At least it wasn't too difficult to walk in the heels. They weren't too tall and not too short to be ugly. She found her balance quickly. Her strut was a bit different now that she had these particular shoes on and perhaps there was a subtle smile on her face because she knew she looked quite cute at that moment. Suddenly she couldn't wait to get up on stage for everyone to see.

There were plenty of boots on display, but Marron only had her eyes on one of them. When the lady came out informing her that it came in other colors like bubblegum pink and key lime green it wasn't even a question, Marron decided she wanted the different colors as well. Malachi was all too happy to oblige.

"Let me show you the leather jackets—they have different kinds," Malachi said to Pan after he had the sales rep take Marron's selection to the checkout counter.

"No, that's alright," Pan said shaking her head. "I don't really need one. I mean, when would I ever wear it? I work at a doctor's office."

"Is it illegal to wear jackets to the office?" Malachi asked curiously.

"No, but…it wouldn't look professional."

"Then don't wear it to the office," he said with a shrug.

"I'm there almost every day. If I can't wear it there, then there's really no point."

"Suit yourself," Malachi said letting the matter go.

He wasn't going to try and convince her much to her surprise. He simply lost interest. Marron had his attention again, spotting a blouse that had caught her eyes. She seemed all too eager to spend his money. Pan supposed it wasn't an altogether terrible thing if he was clearly offering to do it, but she still felt like she was taking advantage. Her shoes made delicate clicking noises on the ground as she followed the two about the store. Marron wasn't really into shopping as far as Pan knew, but she seemed to have turned a new leaf that day. And Malachi seemed to be enjoying himself suggesting things for her as well. He'd point out clothing for Pan, but she continually waved her hand in modest refusal. He didn't pressure her, but for some reason she'd wanted him to. It was silly, but true. She wanted him to pay more attention to her, but she was unwilling to have him spend money on her, not any more than he already had.

Thankfully, they didn't stay too much longer in the place and soon they were moving on to other stores. Malachi had given them several capsules to hold their items and Pan, at the very least, decided to use this for her old clothes. Marron had already racked up a few shoes, shirts and dresses. They soon found an electronic store and Pan was hard-pressed to restrain herself. She loved gadgets probably as much as Marron and there was always something new coming out. However, she'd rarely buy these things because of the price. Soon she was holding new cords in her arms along with a really nice Bluetooth speaker. She'd seen raving reviews about it and she'd been saving up money for it for some time. Marron, of course, bought her sparkling new razor thin 200-inch television. Pan had to admit that it was quite impressive. Malachi would take out his trusty black card and the transactions would always go through. The same phenomenon occurred at every store they visited that day.

Malachi didn't partake in the rest of pretzel bites and Pan noticed this immediately though she decided not to make a big deal about it. Instead, she and Marron finished it off. Pan was just glad to be able to throw it away. Marron, as well, finished off the lemonade. She was practically a kid at a candy store as her eyes grew wide and she began pointing at things that she wanted and dragging them along to anything that caught her eye. Malachi never refused her and Pan couldn't stop rolling her eyes at her antics. The man was clearly a bottomless pit of money. Though Bra was supposedly wealthy by association, she never offered to do as much and they never expected her to. Then again, Pan supposed that this was different and that Malachi had made his own wealth. Bra was simply born into it. Whatever claim to wealth she had was her mother's and she'd have to ask her for money before anything else. Bra had an allowance that she had to adhere to until such time that she moved out of the house and decided to take a job. Bra was practically showered with money on a daily basis simply because of her birthright. Pan would not have felt nearly as guilty using her as she did Malachi. They were literally spending _his_ money which he had worked quite hard for in her opinion. She knew that he spent many hours out of the day enduring brutal rehearsal sessions for the many live performances he'd done over the years. Despite him being so generous, she still didn't want to indulge him.

Marron found the grill she was looking for next in a stroke of luck. Vendors were standing about in the middle of the walkways shouting out their wares. One of them was selling grills and Marron wanted to get the biggest most impossible grill they had on display. Their shopping spree didn't come to a close until they saw a car on display and Marron fell in love with it instantly. By this time, Pan was quite hungry. Pretzels bites simply wasn't enough for her and soon her growling stomach gave it away.

"Ooo, looks like someone's a little hungry," Marron teased poking at her stomach.

Annoyed, Pan crossed her arms. "You've dragged me around this place over an hour and we've passed the food court twice now—let's eat something already before I die a sudden death."

"Alright, you've gotta' point," Marron said, "Maybe I got a little carried away."

Malachi looked indifferent to the prospects of food which concerned Pan, but this too she kept to herself. If she and Marron were eating something, then perhaps he'd be peer pressured into joining in. Pan led the way over to the food court and they ended up going for the Chinese takeout which was always a favorite of theirs. Of course, Malachi insisted on paying for them and of course, Marron didn't stop him. He didn't order anything for himself instead claiming that he wanted something else. For a while, Marron and Pan sat down at one of the tables on their own. He'd headed in the direction of juice bars and frozen yogurt vendors much to Pan's annoyance. Sure, actual solid food was served there, but Pan had a feeling that he wouldn't be partaking in it that evening. She'd been with him for a good portion of the day and she was almost certain that he'd had nothing earlier before she'd come there. Jensen had informed her that he'd been consecutively skipping breakfast. While she looked in the direction in which Malachi had disappeared trying to keep tabs on him, Marron appeared oblivious as she dug into her fried rice.

"Will you give it a rest?" Marron said after a while, "You gonna' stare him into getting some actual food?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Pan said as she returned her attentions to her own plate. She began on it slowly. "Is it a crime to be concerned?"

"With you? Yes. Concerned is practically your middle name. Personally, I think we've made a lot of progress today."

"How so?" Pan asked.

"He just seems more, well, alert if you know what I mean. Not like how he was from the start. No thanks to you, by the way."

"Oh and telling him to buy everything that you point at is somehow engaging?"

"Clearly, you've missed the point. That outfit totally suits you."

"Was that an insult?" Pan asked looking over at the other with furrowed eyebrows.

"It's an observation. You can't say 'let's try to cheer him up' and then refuse to do the thing which he obviously enjoys doing."

"Well then, tell me what that is," Pan demanded.

"Spoiling the crap out of two very beautiful women. And I bet he prefers hanging out with us then say some random group of guys."

"That's a lot of assumptions your making. Besides, Bra would have a fit if he was somehow spending his time with any woman that wasn't her."

"Well there's one easy way to find out who's right. Just ask him. But I know I'm right."

"Okay, if that's really the case, then before when he was with Bra, he just didn't hang out with anyone and only Bra?"

"I wouldn't take it to such an extreme, but essentially."

Pan continued to eat her food before speaking again. "That kind of sucks."

Marron shrugged. "Takes a special person to put up with Bra for more than a few days." She laughed to herself. "Hey, you know how Bra is always talking about how she could have anyone she wants? That girl has no idea how to _keep_ someone for more than a hot second. Sure you can convince some guy to fuck you for a while, but it's probably never crossed her mind how very few would want to stick around. That ocean of guys becomes a kiddy pool of one or two."

Pan snorted at this. "Better not tell Bra. Don't want her to freak out about how limited her choices are. She _always_ brags about that stuff."

"It never fails," Marron agreed. "Now she has a child as well. Doubt she's looking for one-night stands anymore. Or on second thought, maybe she is. That girl is voracious."

"Geez, what have we come to? Shit-talking about Bra behind her back?" Pan asked.

"Why not? It's fun. Maybe we should let Malachi join in."

"Marron, don't," Pan pleaded.

She laughed at this. "Calm your tits. I was only joking. Besides, I don't think he'd join in even if we asked."

Pan thought about Marron's last statement and realized that she was right. Pan had talked to Malachi earlier that day and clearly he still cared about Bra. Despite her flaws, despite her blatant disregard for his feelings, he didn't outright blame her or berate her. Instead, he seemed to be trying to understand what _he_ did wrong. Everything seemed to be his fault and not hers. There was no way he'd go along with badmouthing her no matter what it is she did. The thought saddened her. She wasn't altogether certain if that was even a healthy stance to take.

Malachi eventually joined them at the table and he set down his large cup of a green colored smoothie some of which he'd already been sipping on. Marron made a face when she saw this.

"Looks totally unappetizing," Marron said. "You on a diet?"

"Maybe I need to be, but no. It just tastes really good. Don't let the color fool you. It's more of a mango pineapple smoothie."

"Then why is it green?" Marron asked.

"They put either kale or spinach in it, but it's a subtle flavor. Wanna' try some?"

Marron shrugged. "Why not?"

He held the cup up to her so that the straw was in prime position for her to take a quick sample. Pan watched in slight annoyance as they were once again swapping spit. Marron looked surprised when the flavor hit her tongue.

"It's better than I thought. Pretty refreshing. Kind of addicting," Marron added at the end.

"See?" he said with a grin.

Before he brought it to his mouth again, Pan stopped him. "Let me try some of this mysterious green crack you two are raving about."

Without further ado, he lifted it towards her and she took a generous sip. It wasn't bad, but it wasn't exactly her cup of tea. "A little powdery, but good."

"It's an acquired taste for some," he said as he finally brought it back to himself.

Pan took secret joy in watching the other take another sip from the straw—it was as close to a kiss she'd ever get from him. Not that she was particularly fond of kisses, but if it was with Malachi, it wouldn't bother her as much. Marron and Pan were both nearly finished with their food and Malachi wouldn't have much issue being mobile with only a mere drink. Pan found that she was in a much better mood now that she wasn't starving as they began to stroll about once again.

"So, Marron, how does it feel to be the owner of a swanky new car?" Pan asked the understandably giddy woman.

"Like I'm a new person. You don't understand. My car can barely move as it is. I didn't want to tell you, but it shut off twice during the long drive which is why I was so late."

"Oh, really? I had no idea. You should have called," Pan said. "I could have just taken you with me."

"Didn't think my situation was that desperate until it actually stopped on me. Malachi," Marron said looking towards him, "I'm really grateful, by the way, if I haven't said so before."

"No need to thank me," he said with a dismissive hand, "I wanted to do it anyway and it sounds like you really needed it—that's reward enough."

"You always this generous?" Marron asked with a chuckle. "Just throwing your money at anybody who asks."

"Not just anybody," he replied. "Any friends of Bra are friends of mine even if I suck at keeping in touch."

"Really?" Pan asked surprised. "We've never hung out like this before though."

"For good reason," Malachi said.

"Jealous Bra is always jealous," Marron clarified. "I have a question for you, Mr. Superstar."

"I'm all ears," he said with a grin.

"You like hanging out more with women or men?" she asked.

"Marron!" Pan exclaimed a little too loudly. She hadn't thought that Marron would actually go through with the question, but it was too late to take it back now. It was no less embarrassing, however. She was sure her cheeks were burning a bit.

"It's a perfectly innocent question." Marron argued back.

"Women," he said unabashedly. Clearly, he didn't have a nervous bone in his body. "Less judgmental, similar interests, less measuring of dicks, and the most important: less talking about sports all the time; I literally have nothing to add to those conversations."

"So, I get it," Marron replied, "You're not a real boy, you're just some woman's fantasy."

"Or," he began as he placed an arm on Marron's shoulder, "I'm just telling you what you want to hear."

"You would," Marron retorted. "I can't really tell if he's lying or not."

"He's not," Pan said with a sigh.

"You sound so certain," he said with a laugh.

"Well, I'm really good at telling if someone's not telling me the truth. Most Saiyans are," Pan countered, "Just have to pay closer attention to certain signs."

"What like heart rate?" Malachi asked. "What if the person's just nervous or ashamed?"

"That doesn't apply to you, now does it?" Pan said with a partial smile.

"Right, because I never experience those things," Malachi said sardonically.

"And what if that person believes his lie so much that it seems like the truth?" Marron asked.

"That's a different story. You guys are complicating things."

"Humans are complicated," Marron countered.

Pan sighed exasperatedly. "Takes a lot to impress you guys, huh?"

"I'm just giving you a hard time," Marron said jokingly. "As long as I've known you, you've been a pretty good lie detector."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence. I was wondering if I had to bring up past examples of your crazy boyfriends."

"Two," Marron clarified holding up two fingers. "Two crazy boyfriends. Don't lump me in with Bra who had a different one every other—" She paused when she glanced over at Malachi.

"It's not breaking news," Malachi said wearily.

Even still, Marron didn't finish her statement. In a rare show of concern, she completely changed the subject.

"Well, I'm thinking we've overstayed our welcome here—let's go already. I'm done making you buy me things," Marron said winking at Malachi. "What is it eight in the evening? Prime time for karaoke."

"Know any good places around here, Malachi?" Pan asked even though she had a place in mind. Marron knew it too.

Malachi could only shrug clearly unfamiliar with the area. "It's not like I typically 'hang out' anywhere. I go where I need to and go back home. Way less hassle for me."

"That sounds surprisingly boring," Marron said thoughtfully.

"Don't get me wrong. The people I know can throw some lavish parties, maybe overly so. Though it's never something I'm especially looking forward to."

"You're in luck," Pan said, " _I_ know of a place and it will be a whole lot different from those stiff parties you go to."

"Good. Maybe I'll fit in," Malachi said.

"Uhh…" Marron began uncertainly. "Maybe? It's definitely not a gothic scene."

"It won't matter either way," Pan said. "I've seen all sorts of people stroll in. I doubt people will even think twice."

The three of them made their way to the car. Pan was the driver again as she headed straight to the place she'd intended to take them all along. She'd done her fair share of research and read countless reviews just to make a decision on this. This was perhaps the largest and most popular karaoke bar within a fifty-mile radius of either the mall and the national park that Marron had initially wanted to go to. It was still a little ways out so it took them around another hour to get there. By that time, the night was in full swing and the parking lot was packed.

"Geez, everyone and their mom is out here today. What day is it anyway?" Malachi asked.

"Just a regular ol' Wednesday," Marron said. "You should see it on the weekend. We'd have to park down the street."

The building was lit up and easy to find and there were plenty of people still making their way to the main entrance. The stage inside was huge for a karaoke bar and, in fact, a bit more intimidating than most. Only brave souls ventured out there yet clearly this didn't stop the less endowed who desperately clamored for their moments of fame. No one even batted an eye as a school girl, rocker chick and gothic boy strolled into the fray. Others had far more ridiculous and gaudier get-ups. Sequin seemed to be a popular fashion choice along with large hats and some overly elaborate dresses. There were also a great deal of fishnets and bright red pumps. The lighting was dim all over as they pushed through the crowded hallway into the much larger show room which housed a good number of people, some standing, some sitting at booths in the back or some sitting at the bar. The stage was front and center and already some slightly offkey older gentlemen was singing his heart out to a very old pre-Elvis era country song that a surprising number of people seemed to know and cheer on.

"We gotta' get our tickets so we can be in the line-up," Pan shouted over all the noise. "Follow me!"

Pan hadn't actually been to this particular place, but she made the connection when she noticed the glowing digital number on the bottom foundation of the stage facing the masses. It was a bit like the DMV only there was booze and loud music. She didn't see a ticket booth so she decided to check out the bar first. It was as easy as asking for a number when they finally approached the bar. The bartender quickly handed them their small red tickets and told them that the numbers ran in order. Before they left, Malachi ordered a beer much to Pan's annoyance.

The bar was completely full so they made their way over to the numerous booths in the back. They didn't have as good a view of the stage, but it was still easy enough to make out. What was more important, however, was that the sound was far more tolerable here as they were away from the main crowd. They could hear each other talk.

"The sound quality is pretty impressive," Malachi said over the noise. "I can see why everyone comes here."

"Right? It's sounds awesome!" Marron shouted in agreement.

Pan watched Malachi take a long swig from the bottle. They had several people ahead of them. It was going to be a long night.

"So what are we going to do? All go up at once?" Pan asked. "Or separately first and then altogether next time."

"We'll be here all night at that rate," Malachi said wearily. He took another swig from the bottle. "Let's just go separately and call it a day."

"Hey, you promised to do it with us," Pan argued. "If anything, we should do it together and call it a day."

" _Hey_ ," Malachi said in mocking tones, "How about I'm tired and I just want to go up there on my own. Not like we can't just come another time when it's less crowded. In fact, just let me go after you two so we can make a run for it once everyone figures out who I am."

"No one's going to notice," Pan said back forcefully. "You have lime green hair and crazy clothes."

"It doesn't take much, trust me," he said. "Especially around all these music lovers."

"Sounds like a plan," Marron said, apparently not wanting to rock the boat any further.

"Fine," Pan said with a huff. "We'll do it your way."

Malachi said nothing further than this, satisfied with the outcome. Pan watched him eventually down the entire bottle in record time, but his attentions weren't on her. The older gentleman had left the stage and another much younger brunette female climbed on. Pan wasn't even sure if she was an adult. Her confidence was through the roof. She went straight into her chosen country pop song with not even a warble to suggest a hint of stage fright. She seemed a natural and decent looking to boot. She knew the song by heart since Pan never saw her look at the monitor and sauntered about the stage in practiced poise. Yet Pan had never heard of the woman. She glanced over at Marron who was transfixed by the woman.

They sat through quite a few more people most were pretty good, some were utterly terrible, but such performances lightened the atmosphere and the audience was always encouraging. Though it sometimes felt like a singing contest, it was at moments like those that she was reminded that she was at a karaoke. Malachi disappeared a total of five times to renew his bottle of beer much to Pan's further annoyance. On the fifth time he returned to their booth, Marron snatched the bottle from his hand and chugged a good portion of it herself and slammed it on the table—the sound was instantly absorbed by the cacophony around them. A bit of the liquid flew out the top. Malachi was amused at her antics, but that didn't stop him from finishing it off.

"You've had enough," Pan said to him.

"I'm not the designated driver," he proclaimed. "So it doesn't matter."

Pan frowned at him, but he remained unperturbed.

"We still got three more people ahead of us and the last two were shitty," Malachi complained.

"At the most, it'll be like fifteen more minutes, but it's not like I'm chomping at the bit to go up there. I've never seen a crowd so big. I'm getting butterflies," Marron said.

Malachi turned to her at this. "I'm waiting for _you_ to go."

"Me?" Marron asked confused.

"Yes, you," he confirmed intently. "It's very, very important. Like urgently important."

"Okay, okay," Marron said a little taken aback by the sudden intensity. "I said I would, alright? What's the big deal?"

Pan chalked it up to one too many bottles of beer as Malachi continued to regard her with uncharacteristic interest.

"It's just that it's been bothering me since I first saw you today. I don't know what it is—I think I've seen you somewhere before."

Marron slid back further from him at the booth with a guarded expression—they currently sat on the same side. "What do you remember?" she asked.

Pan's eyebrows furrowed at this. It was a strange response to an even stranger statement. She wasn't quite following and Malachi seemed to completely ignore her question when he spoke again.

"Sing like there's no one else in the room, like you wanted to do it just because you felt like it, because something moved you to do it."

Marron gazed at him longer than usual. "One condition. I don't want you to look at me. Just look somewhere else."

"Fine, whatever you want," he said without blinking an eye. "I just need to hear you. What number are you?"

"Forty-six," Marron said quickly.

He looked to Pan questioningly.

"Oh, uh, forty-five."

"Switch," Malachi said singularly. It was more of an order than a suggestion.

"Seriously, Malachi?" Pan asked in agitation. "I want to go first."

"Does it matter _when_ you go? You can still do it after Marron."

"You said it—it doesn't matter just when so it shouldn't matter that I want to go first."

Going first meant something to Pan. Before Marron, Pan wanted him to see her first for a change, but it seemed even that was being taken from her. She wouldn't stand for it no matter how much he whined. She watched in confusion as he placed his forehead dramatically on the table. He groaned loudly then slammed both fists on the table not hard enough to damage it, but hard enough to get across his apparent desperation.

"What is it gonna' take to convince you otherwise?" Malachi asked looking up at her now with dark emotional orbs.

"Is it really that serious?!" Pan asked in frustration.

"Pretty _please_ ," he begged her. "You can have whatever you want."

"What kind of person do you think I am? You can't just buy me off. Is that your go-to solution for everything?"

"No, I—"

"There is no amount of money you can throw at me that will make me change my mind."

Marron cleared her throat. "It's seriously not the time to be stubborn. I just want to get this over with quickly."

Pan noticed that his eyes were alarmingly moist as if he was on the verge of just crying. Her eyes softened a bit when she saw this. Whatever this was it meant a great deal to him more than what she could possibly fathom. The last thing she wanted to do was make him cry at least not today. The outing had gone well so far. With an exasperated sigh, she handed her small red ticket to Marron and they switched quickly.

"Happy now?" Pan asked.

Malachi sat up straighter. "Thank you."

He seemed legitimately relieved at the turn of events which was mindboggling to her. She turned her eyes to the stage as a new person came up. The last few minutes seemed to take the longest time as the anticipation grew. Malachi went for yet another beer and Pan didn't have the energy to chastise—it wasn't her job anyhow and he seemed to still have his wits about him. He savored this one as the last two people came and went both of which was a bear to sit through. Seemed as if the talent was dwindling the later it became.

Marron stood up midway through the last performance so that she could be in position by the time it ended.

"There's no need to be nervous," Malachi said reassuringly to her. "The only thing the audience can do is listen, they can't physically hurt you."

Marron glanced back at him with a nod before taking the pink tie out of her hair which held up her ponytail. She shook it out for good measure. She now fully looked the part of a rocker chick. She left the tie on the table before disappearing into the crowd. It was as if he was expecting something wonderful to happen. Pan had heard her sing before not by herself, but whenever herself, Marron and Bra did karaoke together. She basically had a sense of her voice which seemed to blend nicely with theirs. It wasn't anything spectacular in her opinion. Per Marron's request, Malachi didn't even attempt to look towards the stage. Instead, he closed his eyes, his expression the picture of serenity despite being in a noisy almost raucous bar filled with the strong smells of alcohol and sweat.

As had been the case for all the other performances, the crowd grew quieter as the next person showed up on stage. Marron gave a tentative wave to the expectant crowd before the music began. As soon as the soft guitar began, Pan knew exactly what song it was and knew it was her favorite. It was a slow song after a slew of fast-paced pop flavored ones. Her eyes were closed at first when she started the first verse.

 _When I was younger_ _  
_ _I saw my daddy cry_ _  
_ _And curse at the wind_ _  
_ _He broke his own heart_ _  
_ _And I watched_

 _As he tried to reassemble it_

Pan was not prepared for what she was hearing at this moment. It was something soft and vulnerable, but with an edge. She had to make sure it was actually Marron up there. "This is it," Pan heard Malachi mutter to himself, "This is _exactly_ it. The very same voice from before." Her voice grew stronger as the verse continued.

 _And my momma swore_ _  
_ _That she would never let herself forget_ _  
_ _And that was the day that I promised_ _  
_ _I'd never sing of love_ _  
_ _If it does not exist, but darlin'_

It seemed effortless on her part and she'd yet to open her eyes. The crowd was now dead silent as her beautiful tones transfixed them.

 _You are, the only exception_ _  
_ _You are, the only exception_ _  
_ _You are, the only exception_ _  
_ _You are, the only exception_

Her voice slid smoothly over the notes as she'd moved into the iconic hook. Even then, the room was quiet as they seemed to intently listen. Though it was simple, it depended heavily on the emotion placed on each iteration of that phrase and Marron nailed it well. Her eyes were open now, but she stared off into the distance. She wasn't moving about the stage. Her stiff body language suggested some shyness, but that didn't stop her from singing with near expert control. Pan glanced over at Malachi and she could tell that he was enjoying himself as he wore a genuine smile—it was one she had not seen for a long time, the kind that was infectious and warming. Watching such a reaction from him, she understood a little better the urgency from earlier. She had been underestimating the powerful influence that music seemed to have over him. Through his ears, she wondered how different and intense music might sound and if she might learn to appreciate it as much as he did.

By the time, Marron got to the hook again, everyone was singing along happily. It was a well-known ballad after all. The tone of the song intensified near the end and Marron elevated her voice accordingly clearly in her element now. She ended on a soft note and the crowd gave her an energetic reception, the most enthusiam she'd seen since they'd stepped in. Pan was impressed as well, but she couldn't remember Marron ever sounding _this_ polished. She quickly vacated the stage. Just like that, the moment was over as Malachi seemed to acknowledge his surroundings again including her. Pan had forgotten to make her way forward, but she did at this point as she finally stood up.

"Hard person to follow up," Malachi said with a grin.

"I'll manage," Pan said simply as she pushed through the crowd.

She didn't run into Marron along the way, but it didn't matter. Butterflies were mounting as she got to the stage. A guy was there before the stairs asking which artist and song. Pan answered smoothly: Aaliyah, I Care 4 U. She'd chosen an R&B song because she knew it was Malachi's favorite genre and secretly it pretty much summed up all the things she was unwilling to actually tell him. She couldn't be sure if he'd even make the connection or be paying attention and she couldn't see him so far in the back. The music began as she stepped out on the stage and the crowd had grown quiet again. She grabbed the mic as if it were a shield of sorts—it did give her much needed confidence. Her eyes briefly scanned over all the faces she could see in the front and she smiled at everyone. Marron was right, this size of a crowd was definitely intimidating—it might have been less frightening had someone else been there with her. She generally always had someone with her at these kinds of things, but not today.

She'd already missed the soft 'mmm's and 'ooooh's at the beginning, but she was no professional and often felt stupid making such nonsensical sounds.

 _Hey my baby_

 _Why you lookin' so down?_

 _Seems like you need a lovin'_

 _Baby you need a girl like me(around)_

 _Hey my baby_

 _Tell me why you cry_

 _Here take my hand and (yeah)_

 _Wipe those tears from your eyes_

She knew her voice was shaking a bit, but she supposed she was doing fairly well and the audience was helping her along much to her relief. She knew also that she was a bit offkey. It seemed impossible to change that once she started and then all she wanted to do was get this over with. The song was a bit too serious for her meager vocal skills. The emotion that was supposed to be there simply wasn't. The chorus went on for far too long making her palms feel quite sweaty as her now shakier voice attempted some "oo's and 'ahh's.

 _Hey sexy baby_

 _Why'd your girl leave you in pain?_

 _To let a fine man like you go_

 _She must be insane_

 _Hey sexy baby_

 _There's no need to worry_

 _Oh boy if you call on me_

 _I'll come, I'll come in a hurry_

She still had a bridge to mangle before the last iteration of the far too simplistic chorus. Oh, why did she think this was a _good_ song for her to sing? There were too many nuances she wasn't making and it was sounding a bit ingenuine. She should have settled on a more crowd pleasing fast song. Even the audience was faltering on some parts. Once the final chorus began, she decided simply to leave the stage instead of making the audience suffer further. Had she been a softer woman, she might have started bawling her eyes out. She hadn't expected to run into Malachi, but perhaps she should have—he was next after all.

"Oh, sorry, excuse me," Pan said quickly, but he stopped her.

"Hold on for a second."

Pan looked at the other wearily. "Yeah?"

"Come on with me," he said back.

"Really? I thought—"

"I can tell you really wanted to do it and I was being a whiny baby earlier. This is my apology."

"But what about Marron?"

"She just wants to leave already," he said with a laugh.

Pan was close enough now to smell the alcohol on his breath but he still appeared coherent. Technically, he was well over the limit and quite drunk.

"What do I have to do?"

"It'll be easy. Just sing with me, follow my lead. Your voice is perfect for harmonizing."

Pan snorted at this. "No need to make me feel better."

"I've heard you before—it sounds better with others. You'll see," he said with a genuine smile.

One of Malachi's songs had started and they were expected on stage. Pan simply followed him breathlessly. She kept her eyes on him, her source of confidence now. He picked up the mic and pure magic began to flow from his lips. The crowd instantly went bonkers, but that was mere background noise to the now mesmerized Pan. He moved close to her so that the mic could also be near her. She'd almost forgotten to sing, but at his behest she did so. For that moment in time, her poor, measly voice soared alongside the skilled, distinctness of Malachi's. To her surprise, it didn't sound half bad. She had a voice to follow along to as her own seemed to move towards his specific sound. She wondered briefly if his perceived magic was affecting her own ability. She had no idea what was happening, but she didn't want it to end.

However, it did end and quite abruptly. People were climbing on stage and soon Malachi was forced to stop singing and leave the mic as they began their hasty escape. The jig was up. They'd discovered his true identity. Pan found herself leading the way down the stairs and then out the back exit. She didn't have time to explain what she was going to do as she grabbed Malachi and shot upward into the air before anyone had managed to step out of the building. It was a tall one and Pan decided that they'd escape to the roof and wait until the frenzy calmed down again.

"Sorry, if I was a bit rough," Pan began when they could stand on their own again.

Malachi laughed at this. "Duly noted. I'm just glad we escaped. That was quick. They knew so quickly this time. Geez." He sat down on the gravelly expanse of the roof.

"Guess I can see why you prefer to stay inside all the time," Pan said watching the other.

"It was worse before. I now have a distinct advantage of knowing how to fly. Not that I could do it in front of everyone. Least it was exciting." He laid back on the ground now spread out. "We may be here awhile."

Pan took out her cell as it vibrated in her pocket. It was Marron sending a text. _Glad I avoided that whole thing. I'm in the car. Tell you when it's safe._ Pan repeated it to Malachi who nodded knowingly.

"Interesting song choice for karaoke," Malachi said after a while.

Pan had been looking out into the distance as a quietness had settled between them. Now she looked toward him again. She was seated cross-legged. "Hm, you noticed?" she asked nervously. "I bet it sounded terrible. I butchered that song."

"I've heard worse."

There was more silence before Pan cleared her throat again. "It was for you."

Malachi turned his head to her. Up until then, he'd been looking to the dark skies. "I had a feeling…but I didn't want to jump to conclusions. Sometimes a song is just a song. Sometimes it means something to the person singing it."

"Hope I wasn't being too forward—Nevermind, actually, I guess I was. I _do_ want things to work out with Bra, but…"

"Seriously, Pan, I don't think I'm all that cut out for relationships. You'd do well with finding another with far less baggage."

"Please, you're not as terrible as you make yourself out to be. You're pretty much everything I want in a guy and I don't mean that lightly."

Malachi sighed at this. "I'm not good for _anyone_ right now. I'm sure you realize that too or else you would not have dragged me out here today. I'm getting way too emotional about the smallest of things—No, trust me, you don't want to start anything with me right now. There's so many things I need to sort out with Bra. We haven't talked, but we need to."

"That's okay, I completely understand. There's no pressure here. We can just be friends. If that's alright with you."

"I would love that," Malachi said with startling conviction.

"And you can tell me anything you want. I won't ever judge you. I will always be on your side."

It took her a moment to realize that he was tearing up as he began to sniffle. This took her by surprise. He sat up and approached her. She could see more clearly tears streaming down his face.

"That sounds…wonderful."

Pan found herself in a very firm embrace by Malachi and she slowly wrapped her arms around the poor man who was still crying but quietly into her chest. He definitely was far too emotional at this point, but perhaps alcohol was the catalyst. Then again, perhaps something else was going on, a combination of things. Many things were yet to be mended and he'd been trying to hold it together all day. After days and weeks of hiding away in his house, he was faced with a challenging day of meaningful interactions with others—he was worn out and just barely hanging on. But Pan refused to let him off the hook so easily. She wouldn't allow him to fall into ruin as he seemed so keen on doing. If she could, she wanted to lift him up again to his former glory.


	55. Finding Purpose

**Bra found that she had grown increasingly dissatisfied with her life.** Her days were spent either being a mother to the ever energetic Machi or spending time on her own to at least convince herself that she still had a life. She didn't want to call up her friends especially not Pan as she imagined that they would not support her in the least. She didn't feel like hearing their gripes. For the most part, they often disagreed with her. While it was amusing before, it was downright annoying under these circumstances when she was still trying to maintain her sense of pride. Even when she repeatedly told herself that she had made the right decision, her own emotions would betray her and she would always feel somewhat despondent.

But there was something else that had taken her attention: her pregnancy. She'd gone to the doctor just as Malachi had suggested because she was tired of not knowing. It was no longer fun when the one who she had wanted to share it with was no longer in her life. Her personal doctor had confirmed her pregnancy. She was now on the second trimester and she was reporting to her doctor on a weekly basis to make sure everything was going fine. This pregnancy seemed easier than the first and for that she was grateful—it was easier to forget that it was even happening. It was easier for her to grow bored and miserable.

Her father always had something to do, it seemed, not that she wanted to hang out with him at the moment. Conversation between them had become sparse and awkward. He was distant and she didn't feel like trying to figure out why. She knew that her father had grown fond of Malachi and that was no small feat on Malachi's part. He was the only one out of all of her boyfriends to have managed it. Now that she was older, she knew also that it was difficult for her father to form such relationships with others and that once formed it was even more difficult to throw away. She suspected that out of respect he made no further contact with Malachi, at least not anywhere near the house. Her father was out of reach and could do nothing to help her anyway.

Her mother was buried in her extracurricular activities which could be misconstrued as work. Though she was no longer working for Capsule Corporation, that didn't stop her from indulging in her own mechanical engineering hobbies and help the corporation along the way.

Her brother was busy being a CEO and mostly unreachable. She'd not spoken to him in a long while. He was probably totally ignorant as to what was happening to her or the family. Of course, it was okay since he was legitimately busy almost all the time.

Aside from her grandparents making sure to check-in on her, perhaps more than what she felt was necessary, it was as if she was going through the entire pregnancy all by herself. There wasn't much that her father could do for her anyway and she didn't expect much from Trunks, but their absence even if it might not have been intentional was something she began to feel more and more. And though her mom almost always found time to speak to her at the end of the day, Bra felt as if it wasn't enough; she felt as if she was just an afterthought. She wanted more attention.

Here she was twiddling her thumbs with nothing to look forward to, nothing pressing on her schedule. In the past, she used to brag about such things. She could do whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted, but she couldn't decide just how she wanted to spend her time and the activities that she used to do were of no interest to her. Perhaps it was time for a change. Perhaps it was time she spent her time more constructively.

She'd gone to a university of her own choosing years ago. She hadn't really gone there for education, but socializing. She'd wanted to meet boys who were more high-caliber at least as far as intellect went. Yet it turned out that most boys who were of that ilk were not looking for relationships and were quite focused on education. The boys who were interested were the ones who were more sports-oriented. The hook-ups she managed to make were short-lived at best. That wasn't enough to deter her from actually finishing her four-year degree. Bra was never one to abandon something she started. She'd chosen applied mathematics because numbers were something that had always come easy to her—though she cared very little about them. She'd chosen a focus in computer engineering. Only the last year gave her any significant trouble, but she passed with flying colors regardless. After that brief stint with making some sort of life for herself, she felt no need to go further. There were no pressures from her parents and she didn't feel at all jealous of her brother. She would do as she wanted, when she wanted. She moved at her own pace. It had been awhile, but she decided right then and there that she wanted to do something with her degree.

But that was easier said than done. She had no résumé to speak of nor did she feel like putting one together. Even if she did, she wouldn't have much to add to it. The very thought of job searching sounded exhausting as well. How did anyone do it? How had Pan and Marron managed it? The obvious answer was to see if she could find something to do at Capsule Corporation. Surely she had ample connections for that. The problem was that she'd have to talk to her brother. Her mother was no longer in charge of things and her grandfather's role in the corporation had diminished over the years. He was well on his way to retiring if he hadn't already.

She sighed to herself. It wasn't an altogether terrible thing to call up her brother, but she hated being beholden to him. She hated the very idea of asking another for a favor especially on a matter like this when one was traditionally supposed to do it all themselves. After putting Machi down for her midday nap, Bra finally swallowed her pride and pressed his name in her contacts. She didn't expect to get an immediate reply, but to her surprise he answered.

"Hey, Bra, what a pleasant surprise. Did somebody die?"

He sounded unhurried much to her relief. "Not today," Bra said casually. "Slow day? I'm not used to talking to an actual person when I call. I was fully prepared to leave a message."

"Just another regular day for me. I try to answer all the important calls these days."

"Important? Finally came to your senses as to who's the most important person in the world?"

"Well, yes, actually, inflated ego aside. My priorities have changed. Family's important—isn't that what Mom always said? And you just so happen to be my sister so that's enough for me to drop everything and listen to you for a few moments."

"Alright, who am I talking to and where's the real Trunks? This better not be another Laputa episode."

"Trust me—it's not. We're, uh, done with that, aren't we? Laputa's been dealt with?" he asked a little worried.

"Yes, yes, no need to worry. I'm pulling your leg and you're super gullible. So what's with the change of heart?"

"Ah, well, all the things that's happened recently, I realized I was taking things for granted. Not paying enough attention especially not to Terri. I regret not being there for you more, for everyone really. Maybe I could have helped more with the whole Laputa thing. I want to make myself more available. I pretty much _live_ at the corporate office and that doesn't leave room for much else. As far as responsibilities go, I've delegated more of it to others, hired more people thanks to Dad, gave everyone raises in order to have more free time."

"Sounds wonderful," Bra said only mildly interested in what he was saying. "Must be nice."

"It is. I think it's the _best_ decision I've made in a long while. Terri and I, well it's been amazing. I'm thinking about asking her to marry me—"

"I didn't call to hear about all this," Bra interrupted. "I guess everything's going great for you—I'm happy for you, but I don't feel like listening to you go on and on about it. _Some_ people don't have it as easy as you."

"I didn't mean to come off as bragging," he said quickly. "It didn't come easy for me, you know. I had to change. I had to listen. And," he said taking a deep breath, "I heard about you and Malachi. Maybe you could learn from my mistakes."

"It's not a time thing like it was for you. This is completely different. I don't want to talk about it."

"That's your problem, right there. Nothing will ever change unless there's communication. You both have to listen to each other."

"Trunks, you have no idea what my problem is. You think answering my phone call the one time I call you suddenly makes you a guru about what's been happening in my life? How about you stop sticking your nose where it doesn't need to be."

"You'd be surprised about how much I know," Trunks said confidently, "Mom and I have lunch together pretty often and you're all she's been talking about for days now. If Dad calls me, that's also _all_ he talks about. What I got from them is that they're worried about Malachi and no one really understands why you two broke up. How about you enlighten me? Since I don't know so much."

"Really? They talk to you. Dad talks to you, but not me? I live right here in this house and they can barely spare me a few words."

"You're the one who has to deal with all this, they're probably just giving you some much needed space. You honestly think you wouldn't be annoyed if they constantly tried to talk to you?"

"I don't know."

"Exactly."

"Exactly what?"

"Your 'I don't know' is roughly translated to 'You're right and I don't want to admit it'. So you see what I'm saying. Look, I'm sorry what's happened to you—break-ups are always hard especially if it's with someone you put so much time and effort into."

"Did they tell you?" Bra asked quietly.

"Tell me what?"

"Malachi's asexual."

Trunks was quiet for a moment. "Are you going to expound?"

"I told you everything right there!" Bra said getting a bit roused since she was already embarrassed for having to say it out loud over a phone.

"Well, you haven't told me much. Is that really the only reason you broke things off?"

"Are you serious?" Bra hissed, "It's a _huge_ deal."

"I mean, but what else do you know aside from that?"

Bra was becoming increasingly frustrated because it seemed as if he was missing the entire point. Was everyone in her family this dense about this? How many times did she have to repeat herself? "Do I have to say it to you plainly?"

"Clearly I'm missing something."

"I don't even know why I'm talking to _you_ of all people about this."

"Because, apparently, you have no one better to talk to."

"Look, Malachi is just not for me. He told me he was asexual and that means that he won't have sex with me and you can't have a real relationship without that."

Trunks didn't respond quickly, in fact, Bra checked her phone to see if the call was still connected. She wondered if she had said too much. They might have been close in the past, but that was then and this was now. Maybe he really _didn't_ want to hear about her problems. Maybe she'd ruined her chances of asking him for a favor. How did it come to this anyway? All she wanted to do was ask him a simple question and she hadn't even done that yet.

Finally he spoke. "I think you're reading too far into it. You two should just talk. Sure, he told you something you didn't know about him, but that doesn't change the person who you've been dating for over two years. If you liked him then, why would that change now? FYI, if someone identifies with being asexual, that doesn't mean they won't have sex with you. Just depends. From what I can tell, you have no idea what it means in Malachi's case."

"Really?" Bra asked mystified. "Are you just making stuff up again?"

"Well, you know, we're surrounded by technology and information on a daily basis doubly so considering our family—I'm sure you'd have no problem finding out for yourself."

"Whatever, Mr. CEO. I didn't call to talk about Malachi. I wanted to ask a favor."

"Ah, so we get to the _real_ reason you spared me a thought today."

"Well, I'm not here to kiss your ass, if that's what you want."

"From you? Extremely doubtful. So, what do you want?"

"I need you to get me a job at CC."

"Right now, all of a sudden?"

"You got a problem with that?" Bra asked haughtily.

"I mean, aren't you pregnant? —I would think working would be the _last_ thing on your mind. You should be taking it easy."

"Trunks, I've been through this before, everything's fine, but right now I'm _so_ bored."

He was silent for a moment. "Okay, I guess I can't stop you once you set your mind to something. What did you have in mind?"

"Doing something at the headquarters."

"Where I work?" he asked perplexed.

"Yeah, like someone's assistant so I won't have to work too hard but enough to pass the time."

"Sorry, CC doesn't have one of those kind of jobs," Trunks said in a faux disgusted tone. "You'd make for a terrible assistant anyway. Constantly being told what to do, completely at the mercy of another person with no measure of independence. You couldn't stand a day doing that. Besides, I can't have you work here at the headquarters—conflict of interest. I don't allow anyone else to do it so I can't in good faith or else I'll piss off everyone else."

"Oh, you care about other's opinions? Who cares? You're the one in charge, right?"

"I do care especially about the people who actually _do_ all the essential tasks that keep this place running. You don't want to piss off your trusted employees and partners or else you no longer have a corporation." He sighed at this. "What kind of qualifications do you have?"

"You're going to give me a job?"

"Of course, I will. I would hate for you to run back to Mom complaining or worse to Dad. It just won't be here with me. CC has many branches and many locations worldwide, I'm sure I could find you something."

"Well, I went to school for applied mathematics with a focus in computer engineering," Bra said. It was her one and only qualification. No experience and no other relevant skills.

"Yeah, you did. I remember. Feels like ages ago. Do you like stuff like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like numbers, computers, maybe solving software issues?"

"Definitely software and computer programs."

"Okay, then, I have the perfect job for you. Something internal so you won't have to deal with customers and it's still entry level. It's a part-time position as a paid intern at the technology troubleshooting branch."

"Part-time is perfect."

"I know."

"So, when do I start?" Bra asked feeling excited about the prospects.

"Jumping the gun a little bit, aren't you? I still need a résumé from you and you still need to do an interview and then actually get hired."

"What? I thought you said you'd help me get a job."

"I am. I'll give you a good recommendation. And of course, if that recommendation is coming from me, it's pretty much a shoe-in, but we need to go through the proper channels. Rules are there for a reason and stepping on someone else's shoes, letting you get a job somewhere without anyone else having a say is a terrible way of showing that you value their judgement. They'll have the final say-so, I suggest being on your best behavior."

"Seriously, Trunks, I've never done an interview before."

"Remember what I said about being surrounded by technology and information?"

Bra sighed exasperatedly. "Super helpful you are today," she said sardonically.

"I think I'm being incredibly generous. Consider all the people who don't have any of these advantages, people who actually _need_ a job for a living."

"Right, oh, sagely brother of the world. I can't help that I've been born an heiress and that I've always lived that way. That doesn't make me any less valid than the next person."

"I wasn't implying that, but it wouldn't hurt to be a little more _aware_ of others around you. Come to think of it, I think having a job would be good for you. Now, as soon as you send me a decent résumé, I can get things started."

Bra sighed. "Fine. I'll get around to it."

"Hold on," Trunks said right after she finished speaking.

Bra heard him talking to another man along with the sound of a nearby phone ringing. He seemed busy. She'd gotten her question answered so she didn't feel she needed to keep him any longer.

"Hey, Trunks," Bra said a little loudly so that he might hear. She waited, but she didn't hear him address her. She listened a little to the voices she heard on his side and waited for a lull in conversation. "Hey, Trunks, talk to you later, alright?"

There was still no response, but she didn't feel like waiting any longer so she simply ended the call. If he really had something else pressing to tell her, he could easily contact her again. She was available pretty much all day.

Despite some misgivings, she was still excited about the idea of having a job, a purpose to her daily living, and perhaps finally some direction. There were a few hurtles she had to deal with, but it was a small price to pay in the larger scheme of things.

/

Two days later, Bra was well on her way to going to her first interview. She was not looking forward to it, but she knew it was something she had to do. No matter how often she asked her brother if there was some way to avoid it, he was pretty staunch on her doing it. "You have to convince others that you're worth investing time and effort into—I can't do that for you." He would say this in some way or fashion anytime she brought up the issue. She used her own allowance money to pay for a program that could compile her own public records into a professional résumé so that she virtually spent no time at all making one. It was hardly even a page, but surely that was to be expected.

She went to a high-end woman's clothing store and bought several casual business outfits so that she could still look beautiful while wearing the appropriate attire. She still wasn't showing too noticeably and could get away with this for now. She wore a dark blue pant suit with a dark blouse underneath that sported a laced collar and small section just above her breasts. The dark blue jacket fit her well and her ankle pants allowed her to show off her gorgeous feet along with black pumps. She opted not to wear tights of any kind. She'd placed her usual long flowing hair into a tiny bun and allowed a piece of hair in the front to frame the left side of her face.

Bra walked with confidence towards the respectably sized building that housed one of the many information technology departments. According to Trunks, this was the first one established and dealt exclusively with the tech being used within the corporation. She'd watched countless interviews on the internet and practiced in the mirror. She felt as ready as she was ever going to be. Per the advice of many job articles, she came very early. In fact, she was an hour early just in case she couldn't find the building.

Her shoes click-clacked against the pavement as she strolled towards the place. The skies were clear and the temperature was perfect as seagulls squawked in the distance. It was a shame she had to waste such a beautiful day inside a building, but this was what she had asked for. Something to do with her time. She spied a little girl near the entrance leaning against the wall beside the sliding doors and sucking on a popsicle. Though it was odd to see someone so young at a corporate building, Bra paid her little mind until the girl spoke up.

"So, you're Bra—the one everyone's been talking about," the violet haired girl said unabashedly.

"Yes, I am," Bra said confidently. "And I'm going in for my interview."

The little girl snorted. "Formalities. No one really has the balls to give _you_ a hard time. This whole thing reeks of privilege."

Bra's eyebrows furrowed at this. "Is that such a bad thing? It's not like I have any control over it."

The girl wore an amused look. "Spoken like a true spoiled brat."

"What's your name?" Bra asked not liking the girl's tone. She was intriguing nonetheless and completely out of place.

"Aster," the girl said simply.

"Just Aster?"

She rolled her eyes at this. "Aster Tyga."

Aster had vibrant violet hair, bronze skin and clear blue eyes. She wore a pale blue dress with spaghetti straps and two bright yellow sunflowers decorated the bottom section of it. She seemed a bit too smart for her own good in Bra's opinion. At the mention of her full name, however, Bra thought she'd heard it from somewhere before, but she couldn't place it.

"So, Aster, what's a little girl like you doing here pestering employees right before they go in for work?"

"First off, I like standing here," Aster said stubbornly, "And I won't move from my spot. Second, how do _you_ know I pester employees if you're not even one yourself? You're not going into work. It's just an interview."

"That's right, it is an interview and I've practiced hard for it."

"Bravo, your richness. You want a cookie for that?"

"Who do you think you are talking to adults like that?"

"An innocent girl who's suddenly found a new hobby," she said with a mischievous smile.

Bra wasn't very fond of this smile. She'd never seen someone so young look so manipulative. "Don't you have school to go to?"

"Shows how much you know—it's still summer vacation."

"And how old are you?"

Aster gave her the same mischievous smile from before. "None of your business."

Bra rolled her eyes. "Clearly, you're around twelve—it's no big secret."

"What about you? How many years have you been around?" She hadn't agreed or disagreed with Bra's last statement which only annoyed Bra further.

"I'm twenty-three," Bra said haughtily.

"Could have fooled me," Aster said with a laugh.

Bra frowned at this, "Well, I got to go before I miss this interview. Have a nice day," she finished quickly before stomping towards the sliding doors.

"Good luck, rich girl, even if you don't need it."

Bra was surprised to hear this as she stepped through the doors, but she didn't feel like engaging the girl further. Instead, she looked for the signs to point her in the right direction.

"Hey, rich girl, third floor, second door on the right," Bra heard Aster say through the now open sliding doors.

"I can find my own way, thank you," Bra said haughtily just as the other snorted and disappeared outside.

Bra didn't trust Aster for a second and made sure to read the signs to the correct place. Turned out, however, that Aster had been correct. The little girl was too confusing to waste brain power on. She found the room of the Information Technology Director and beside the door "Auden Tyga" was spelled out clearly. She wondered if it was a coincidence, but somehow she figured it wasn't. The door was closed and for a moment she stood staring at it before coming up with the bright idea of knocking on it. She gave a gentle knock at first and then a harder one when she received no response.

She stared at the door longer before giving up and leaning against the wall behind her. This wasn't what she'd expected at all. She hated waiting for anything with a passion. After a while, she closed her eyes and crossed her arms in growing irritation. She wondered what kind of waste of time job her brother had managed to get for her when the person who was supposed to interview her was nowhere to be found.

"Ah, Ms. Briefs, a bit early, aren't we?" a man's voice asked startling her out of her reverie.

She turned to the man and immediately felt dwarfed by his height. He wore his light blond hair in a hastily made ponytail and it was quite long from what she could tell. His eyeglasses slightly obscured sharp, intelligent eyes that subconsciously made her stand a little straighter. His face was expressionless so she could not get a proper feel for him from the few words he'd spoken to her. He wore unremarkable clothes making his bright lime green tie littered with polka dots and big font words like "Wow!" and "Awesome!" stand out even more.

"I lost a bet," the man said probably following where her eyes were looking. "I'm Auden Tyga, the director of IT and I'll be conducting your 'interview' today. My apologies for making you wait—it's been a busy day and I hardly ever spend time in my office."

"Oh, that's alright. I'm just glad to finally get this started," Bra said politely with a bright smile. She had to make a good first impression, that was what all the articles had claimed anyway. She couldn't tell, however, if she was having any effect on the expressionless man.

She followed the director inside the office and found that it was quite bare. He hadn't been lying about hardly using the place. On his desk aside from the flat screen computer monitor and keyboard, a lone picture of a dark-skinned woman sat on his desk. It wasn't a large picture, but it was enough that she could easily make out the woman's face from a glance. The woman wore a warm, welcoming smile and her hair was pulled tightly back likely into a bun or beret.

"Please, have a seat," he said in a tone that Bra decided must be his pleasant one. It hadn't changed since he'd first started talking.

She watched him sit down and clasp his hands together. On his right hand, she noticed a plain black ring on his middle finger. It couldn't be wedding band, she surmised, as it wasn't on his left, but it was noticeable since he wore no other adornments. She waited in bated breaths for his battery of questions.

"What's your availability?" he asked plainly.

Bra was slightly confused by this. "Um, sorry, what do you mean?"

"What time of the day would be convenient for you to work?"

"Well, this time is good," Bra said, "I'm pretty much free all day."

"Ms. Briefs," he said in a way that made her feel as if she wasn't understanding him. "When would you like to work? Since you're part-time, no more than five and a half hours per day in a five-day week. Or maybe you would prefer only four consecutive days and more or less hours. It is completely up to you."

"Oh," Bra said in realization and confusion. "I didn't know we were picking out a schedule already. What time do you need me to be here?"

"It isn't a question of whether I need you or not. It's a question of how much you're willing to learn, but I'll give you a schedule since it seems you don't have a preference. Three days a week, Monday through Wednesday, four hours a day starting at nine in the morning. How does that sound?"

"That's—That's fine," Bra said still confused with his questioning. This wasn't what she'd expected at all.

"Alright, then you can start tomorrow if you like."

"Tomorrow is fine as well," Bra said with a nod despite herself. "But, don't you have other questions for me before all that?"

"I don't," Auden said simply. He expounded after a pause likely due to her completely confused expression. "You come very highly recommended and it would look terrible on my part not to hire you and I don't wish to rock the boat in any way. I don't feel strongly one way or the other about these odd circumstances or that we've never given out internships and have no standards on what the job should entail."

"I see," Bra said slowly, "So, I won't have anything to do?"

"I will assign you someone who will teach you how to perform their corresponding duties for as long as needed for you to learn and master. Then I will assign you to a different person performing other facets of the job. Then, so on and so forth. Does that sound reasonable to you?"

"Well, yeah, sure—I mean, yes sir."

He hadn't unclasped his hands and her eyes were drawn idly back to the black ring. His face never changed, revealing nothing about how he felt about anything. Was he annoyed? Was he relieved?

"Good. Then I think we're done. I'll see you tomorrow."

Bra hadn't expected to be leaving so soon. She still needed to make a good impression even if it seemed she'd been hired. At the very least, she wanted to be in her boss's good graces. But he'd given her nothing to work off of, nothing to make herself seem personable. She didn't stand up immediately. There was one thing she could use: his name sounded as if she'd heard it elsewhere. "Sorry, I know this might sound odd, but your name sounds really familiar. Have I met you somewhere before?"

"I assure you, Ms. Briefs, we've never met before."

Just like that, her attempts at an easy dialogue was dashed—he was a hard nut to crack. She could have simply left just as he was indicating for her to do, but she was determined. The only thing left now was the picture on the table—it would be a flimsy, obvious attempt at best.

"That's a lovely picture you have," Bra said with a bright, encouraging smile, "Who is she?"

She watched the other regard the picture for a moment longer than she expected. She wondered if she'd managed to upset him—it was hard to tell.

"That is a picture of my mother," he said after a moment.

Still, she was given little to work with. Not only that, however, she was caught off guard by his response. Perhaps he'd been adopted. "She looks beautiful," Bra said finding herself at a loss of words, having little opinion about the woman. Her hands had gotten a little sweaty, in fact, as she charged into unknown territory with a person she knew so little about.

"Yes," he said back, but his eyes hadn't left the picture as if he hadn't even known it was there. "She passed away some time ago."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Bra said in as sympathetic a tone as she could muster.

That was when she must have drawn him from his gaze as he looked at her now. "Don't be—you had nothing to do with it. She had a hard life, but she was ever optimistic about the future all the way to the very end. She would often say: 'By and by, everything will eventually work itself out.'"

"That sounds like a really nice saying to live by."

"Perhaps," he said wearily. It seemed as if he wanted to say more, but in the end, he left it just like that.

Once again, Bra was left in the position to carry the conversation and she strained to make it last a little longer. Whether it was too personal or not, she chugged right ahead with the first thought that came to mind. "And your father?" She wondered in that moment if she should be introducing herself more, but it was too late.

"As my mother once said about him, she fell in love with the man of her dreams who left her the very next day."

"Well, that's…" Bra said struggling to find something positive to say.

"It's alright. Perhaps I'm not the best person to be discussing family with. On brighter news, Trunks told me of your pregnancy. How far along are you?"

Bra smiled at him brightly now. "Thirteen weeks now and there haven't been any complications."

Auden's expression remained neutral even though she was fairly certain that he was interested in her answer. "That's good. I hope it remains that way for the rest of the time. If you ever feel ill or exhausted, don't feel as if you still need to come in to work. I'm very lenient with such things and especially in your case. Contact me should something arise at your earliest convenience."

"Thank you, sir."

"Now, Ms. Briefs, I think we've taken up enough time 'getting to know one another'. If that's all, Ms. Briefs—"

"Oh, just call me Bra," she said as she stood up.

"If that's what you prefer," he said with a brief nod. "I will see you tomorrow."

With this, she took her leave sufficiently relieved and also a bit excited. Her thoughts turned to the child she'd met before entering the building—something she'd conveniently forgotten to mention at the interview much to her annoyance. He'd seemed ready to leave, however, and not at all in the mood for conversation. She'd done well, all things considering. Aster—given her surname, could she really be biologically related to him? The way her mom had described him, it didn't seem possible. She used the elevator to come down to the first floor and strolled out the door only to be greeted by Aster.

"Wow, that was predictably short," Aster said teasingly.

"Do you really not have anything better to do?"

Aster stuck her tongue out at her. She held a fancy cellphone in her hand probably used for entertainment purposes as she stubbornly remained at the door. "I have an important job unlike you."

"Oh yeah? And what is it you do?"

"None of your business," Aster said proudly.

"Fine, don't tell me. Keep it to yourself."

"I will," she replied brightly as she brought up her phone once again to return to whatever it was she'd been doing.

Bra watched her for a moment before calming herself. She'd wanted to ask her a few questions. "You wouldn't happen to be related to the director, would you?"

Aster looked up at her knowingly. "That's my dad. He's the one who interviewed you."

"He's you're biological dad?"

Aster looked down at her phone again and didn't answer immediately. "Yeah, we're related."

"And you weren't adopted?"

"I was adopted too."

"You know that doesn't make sense," Bra said frustrated.

"He's my biological dad and I was adopted—What? You're too slow to figure that out?"

"Nevermind," Bra said quickly, "I don't care anymore. You're just going to keep playing games with me."

"Go home, rich girl. I look forward to seeing you each and every day."

"Monday through Wednesday, by the way."

Aster shrugged. "Your schedule is hilarious. I work harder than you when I used to go to—I mean, when I go to school and I'm just a kid."

"Well, I'm done with schooling. I paid my dues already."

Aster laughed at this and quite raucously and had a hard time catching her bearings for almost an entire minute. "I have as well. Didn't realize the standards were so low."

"You're impossible. Can't wait for school to start again for you," Bra said before walking away from her not wanting to hear anymore.

Bra left with more questions than answers, but her interest in the whole thing dulled when she realized she was free again to do whatever she liked. Nothing like a few minutes of scheduled time to make her appreciate her freedom a bit more.

She felt slightly intimidated about the prospects of actually doing the job, but Auden had seemed accommodating enough. The interview had been a complete joke, but she was more relieved about it than anything else. Even if she had been prepared for real questions, she had no idea if she'd be able to pull it off once push came to shove. She really had no references and she'd worked nowhere before so she couldn't give examples about past successes. None of it mattered now, however. She'd gotten the job and that was something to feel proud about.

* * *

 **The first thing that Bra realized as soon as she started working the next day was that four hours simply wasn't enough to learn very much in one session.** She'd been assigned to an older brunette lady who was kind and quite patient with her. Any questions Bra had, the woman answered with a long, drawn out explanation. By the next day, she'd started bringing a notebook to write down everything. The lady who she was shadowing, Ms. Grant, oversaw managing the vast databases that CC used on a daily basis. It was a very meticulous job that Bra could see herself growing bored of pretty easily, but she was attentive because it was something she hadn't done before. Each day, she'd be learning something different as well as reiterating what she'd learn previously. Little by little, she was given a bit more to do to assist her.

Bra hardly saw much of Auden Tyga as he was often on different floors of the building attending to other matters and sometimes he wasn't even in the building as he made fairly frequent trips to other parts of the corporation to assist with system issues. He was quite hands on for a director. From what she could tell from her co-workers, he was admired by many and quite well-received. A number of women even had crushes on him, despite it also being widely known that he was unattainable. He abstained from dating and deliberately kept people at armlength—it seemed to add to his charm. Bra didn't particularly see him as charming and hardly understood all the bright smiles that came on a surprising number of women anytime he happened to drop by their work area. While others described him as mysterious, she saw him as an extremely dry individual. Though Bra had to admit, those eyes of his were particularly piercing—she couldn't gaze at him directly for too long. He spoke almost monotonously and had a habit of using non-colloquial words in his speech as if he had more in common with a computer than an actual human being. Bra didn't get the appeal. She also didn't understand how her mother could have ever at one time been attracted to him.

She recalled one time deciding to stay the entire work-day as it had been a particularly busy day and Ms. Grant needed her help—she was hard-pressed to deny someone who was clearly in need and she felt guilty for always leaving work well before anyone else. She'd left with Ms. Grant around five and had seen Auden in the distance likely headed to his car. The girl held onto his hand and she bounced enthusiastically beside him.

"Don't forget to take your pills, Dad," Bra heard Aster say brightly, "Almost missed your time again."

Bra couldn't hear his response as his voice was a great deal lower than the girl's and they were a ways ahead of them.

"Oh, isn't it so cute?" Ms. Grant said as she looked towards the director and his daughter. "Only that girl can so much as grab his hand."

"I guess," Bra said with a shrug, "Isn't it kind of weird though?"

Ms. Grant smiled at her. "Oh, sweetie, he's probably just an introvert—most of us techies are. Maybe they don't have those where you come from."

"No, I know about those kinds of people. It's just..." She didn't finish as she had no idea how to express how odd she thought it was without repeating herself. "Nevermind."

"Well, I'm glad you decided to stay—you've been a real help to me and it's been an honor working with you."

"Oh—Thank you," Bra said not ready for the praise. Had she really done anything worthwhile? All she'd done was follow her instructions.

"You're practically royalty around here, honey. Have a good weekend."

It was Wednesday already and everyone knew that she would be off until next Monday. She looked forward to Wednesday so much that she couldn't see how anyone could actually work a much longer day for five days straight. Part-time was definitely perfect for her. Not to mention having her own money even if her allowance gave her more. Speaking of her allowance, it had lessened since she started working, but she didn't mind. It wasn't as if she paid for anything pressing. Any income she received was basically free money. She had no financial burdens to concern herself with.

"You too, Ms. Grant, once Friday comes around again," Bra said with a smile.

She felt accomplished. She felt more complete. She was the best she'd been in a very long while. Yet her thoughts always returned to Malachi. Now that she was working under Auden, she began to wonder more and more about what it meant to be asexual. It wouldn't hurt to do some research.

When she came home that day, she sat down with her family at dinner. To her surprise, Trunks and Terri had joined them. It was truly a rare occasion. She could see that her brother was in high spirits along with Terri. At first, she was happy because of this, but soon it turned to full-on sadness as she watched the two of them clearly enjoying each other's presence. It was a struggle to keep a pleasant smile on her face the whole time. There was no jealousy on her part just simple, undeniable sadness. She excused herself early claiming she was tired from work and retreated to her bedroom.

They all had been far too happy. Her father had even been on his good behavior and actually held a pleasant conversation with Terri about her writing. It became clear to her that her father had gotten around to reading _all_ her works. She had no idea that her father liked reading in the first place. Her mother had engaged Trunks in more science talk that no one but them could follow. She had felt left out yet she didn't want to ruin such a rare moment with her often chaotic family—they were so content now, so much calmer than what she remembered in the past, almost normal. They had each other. She had no one.

With a sigh, she woke up her laptop and clicked on the browser. In the search bar she typed "asexuality". Then she began to read, starting with the first site that popped up. Hours slipped by easily as she became more and more caught up in the subject. She hadn't realized she'd spend so much time reading about it. Everything she knew and took for granted was being thrown into question. There were so many categories, so many keywords. The personal accounts were what drew her in the most as she read about the perspectives of those dating aces and vice versa. Slowly, she began thinking about Malachi and how he might be described. She ran into roadblocks trying to do so because she simply didn't know enough about him or where he fell on the spectrum. Then, she slammed her laptop shut accidently breaking it in half as anger got the best of her.

Why hadn't anyone ever told her about this? Why was all of this so _new_ to her? She thought she knew so much about people, about things in general, but time and time again she'd been proven wrong. This whole venture, having a job as an intern was exclusively about her learning new things. What if it was the exact opposite? What if she knew very little about people? What if she had no idea how things really worked in the world? What if she was utterly ignorant? How could that be, if she was surrounded, as her brother had put it, by so much technology and information? If this truly was the case, then she had no business trying to make decisions in the first place. She was not only capable of making the wrong decision, but doing it on a constant basis.

Yet she couldn't bring herself to call him and admit that she had been in the wrong, that there was something that _she_ needed to change to make their relationship work and not the other way around. She'd never done that for anything and she loathed to start now. She closed her eyes firmly. She needed to call him, but it couldn't be right now. She wasn't ready. Her pride wouldn't allow her. In her eyes, it was almost an insurmountable task.

She looked up when she heard a light knock on the door—it was her mom.

"Come in," Bra said without hesitation.

The door opened and revealed her mom who wore a concerned look. Bra had wanted to talk to her some days ago, in fact, when she'd first started the job, but she'd been busier than usual for the last few days.

"You left dinner early. Anything wrong, sweetie?" her mother asked.

"Everything's wrong," Bra said with a sigh.

"Want to talk about it?"

Bra shook her head no. "Not right now. I wanted to ask you something though."

Her mother looked at her expectantly waiting for the question.

"Did you tell Trunks about Auden?"

"No," she said with a raised eyebrow, "I doubt my son would be interested in hearing about my past relationships," she said with a grin, "And I only told you because I thought it would help you. Is there something up?"

"Did you know he works for CC?"

"Yeah," she confirmed, "I helped him get a job there. Seemed like he really needed it. He was in a bad place the next time I saw him."

Bra waited for her to say something further, but her mother was finished with her thought. "Well? What happened?"

"Why all the sudden concern? You could barely stand my long-winded story last time. Don't think I didn't notice."

"I'm just curious," Bra said shaking her head, "I wasn't in the mood last time. What happened to him?"

Her mother stepped further into the room and then took a seat on the bed. Bra knew this might be a bit long, but she was prepared for that.

"Alright," her mother said with a sigh, "Since you're so curious. After I was done with all my adventuring with Goku and I began to settle back down again here, I started putting more energy into my work at the corporation. I'd also broken it off with Yamcha by then for the millionth time. I started wondering what had happened to Auden. It's not like we had a terrible break-up. We were pretty amicable and we just went our separate ways. I still had his number, but when I tried to get in contact, the number wasn't working. Probably his phone was turned off. That was pretty concerning, enough for me to actually put some effort into finding him again.

"It wasn't easy, but eventually I found him again residing in a psychiatric hospital."

"Really?" Bra said unable to contain herself.

"Yeah, I know. I had to go see him for myself. I wanted to know what happened and why he was there. The doctor there told me that he was in a perpetual state of catatonic depression and that there was no reason for me to go and see him. The doctor couldn't tell me the circumstances as to why he'd ended up that way as it was confidential. I went anyway and saw him just as I remembered him—that blond hair, those striking eyes of his—only he wore plain patients garb and he was older than when I last saw him, still handsome though. I sat beside him on that bed and he never said a word. He didn't seem to recognize me. He never moved other than to blink every once in a while. And I just, well, I just started crying because I _hated_ seeing him like that. I demanded to know if there was anything that could be done. There had to be something.

"There was medicine he could be taking apparently, but because he had no medical insurance, the hospital was only tasked with giving him the minimal amount of care and that was only because it was something mandated by the government. He'd been in this state of immobility for almost a year, his mental state denigrating after counseling did little to help him. I wanted to help him, I couldn't let him stay like that so I paid for his treatment. They told me electroconvulsive therapy had to be the first step—I didn't like it, but I trusted the doctor to at least know his trade. After that, after he was able to respond well enough to 'external stimuli' as they called it, they began him on pills that would aide in his ability to cope and other things like anxiety and insomnia.

"All of that made a whole lot of difference. I realized when I visited him after the treatment began, that I was the only one looking out for him. There was no else. This visit was different. He recognized me immediately and I almost started crying again. Almost. I was so excited that he could even respond to me that for a while I didn't notice the things that were different about him. As I sat down with him and talked for hours, it became glaringly obvious that he lacked the ability or just didn't want to show any real emotion whether it be through expressions or tone of voice. I hoped that would change eventually, but it didn't. He simply stayed that way.

"He told me everything. After finishing high school with flying colors and with the highest honor, he was headed for college. The full ride that he was expecting, however, didn't actually pay for his lodging and he couldn't afford it himself not to mention all the expenses for books and materials. Living on campus was mandatory unless you lived within the city of the university. His only chance to attend that university was to find someone residing in the city who was willing to let him stay rent free. As you can imagine, that was a tall order, but he managed to find three sympathetic women who let him stay in the living room. He carried few belongings with him and promised that he would begin looking for a job immediately. That was when everything turned south.

"First of all, he received news of his mother passing away—a woman who he loved very much and the only one in the world who cared about him. He'd gone to college so that he might one day be able to take care of her. She'd been battling breast cancer for some time despite not being able to afford the proper treatment. Though it had been in remission, it had returned aggressively and taken her life swiftly. Aside with having to deal with that emotionally, he was also now financially responsible for all the debt she'd long been trying to pay off. He couldn't pay for himself let alone another person's lifetime build-up of debt.

"He was understandably in despair and at the time, he still hadn't landed a job. His studies were grueling and he had to still focus on his schoolwork. To top it off, his once friendly, understanding tenants grew more and more dissatisfied with his inability to pay. They were well-off and he was becoming an eyesore as the year went on. Mind you, Auden hadn't even finished his first year of college yet. By the second year, he'd gotten a job, but it was menial labor and he was paid only a little bit above minimum wage. With no qualifications and no paid internships to turn to, this was all he could do and it was only part-time because that was all he had time for. His wages were being liened as a result of not paying anything towards the debt that was now his. At the end of the day, he had only five dollars to himself each month after paying what he could to the women—a whopping fifty dollars. He never paid for textbooks and was forever asking others to copy pages. Some professors had pity on him and allowed him to borrow a textbook although it wasn't quite the right edition. This mattered a lot in his math classes where changes to the text differed greatly from edition to edition.

"The women he stayed with were a far cry from their disciplined selves in the first year. They were young and completely unburdened. They wanted to enjoy life and socialize so they started throwing parties that grew worse and worse as the year bore on. Most nights, Auden was resigned to hiding away in his room if he wanted to get any sleep. Though he preferred doing his school work at home, he was forced to do it elsewhere because of that. Then one very late Friday night, his three tenants stumbled into his room totally blitzed on whatever drugs they'd been passing around downstairs and they proceeded to making advances towards him.

"Now this is Auden we're talking about—the guy who can't even handle a measly kiss, let alone anything further. Not only did he not like those things, he was physically disgusted by it. What they did next would have been too much for someone who _wasn't_ like that, he was essentially traumatized when they climbed on the bed and began having their way with him."

Bra looked at her mother horrified. "Are you saying that he was…?"

Her mother nodded slowly with a solemn expression. "Repeatedly for a long time. That night broke him completely. He tried to deal with it, to carry on, but it was a losing battle. He went to the police to report them and he had to tell them everything that had happened. An investigation began in earnest, but the thing that really dragged on and on was the case itself because the women were in complete denial. They pointed a finger at how he was living with them without paying them anything and how he was lying simply for his own gains. In the end, the women received a light sentence of probation simply because their lawyer was far better than the court appointed one for him. He, however, ended up with even more debt because the women were able to win a separate case about his negligence on paying them. All of this had disrupted his schooling and he was on the verge of dropping out altogether. Were it not for a kind professor, the very same one who had let him borrow a textbook that year, he would have been homeless. By then, he'd also lost his job after missing too many days. The professor who took him in also taught his Computer Science II class and she paid for him to go see a psychiatrist.

"But the daily sessions did little for him. It became harder and harder to focus and his mental state continued to decline until he could no longer do for himself. That was how I found him. He had no idea what happened to that professor, but clearly that person was no longer around. After I heard all that, I had to do everything in my power to help him, to make sure he was taken care of. I didn't ply him with questions immediately. I just kept visiting him at the hospital until the doctor released him on his own cognizant. I paid for a place for him to stay and I told him I would find him a good job at CC. He was worried about not having any real experience or anything of significance that would help him find a good job. I told him not to worry anymore that I would take care of him. It was hard to say if he was happy about that or not, but he accepted my help.

"While I was in the process of speaking with a few people at work trying to find the perfect place for him, he called me out of the blue at night. He told me more about the three women. Two of them had gotten pregnant from the activities of that night. One of them had gotten an abortion another carried the child to full term and immediately sent her off to foster care. He'd not been able to claim custody because of his mental state, but now he really wanted to make an effort in raising the child. I told him he needed to, at least, have a job first if he was going to convince anyone that he was capable of taking care of a child."

"And all this is happening a long time ago, right? More than twelve years."

"Definitely more than twelve years. Anyways, I found him a job at the IT department and I made sure he was paid well for his efforts. Despite never finishing college, he really proved his worth. He was a hard worker just like I knew him to be back in high school. He was able to adopt that child as well and from then on I left him to his own devices."

"So, as long as he takes those pills he's completely fine? He lives happily ever after?" Bra asked.

"Well, something like that. If you call having to rely on mind-altering medication just to function, happily ever after, then sure."

"Have you seen him recently?"

"Not really, Bra. He's still employed at CC as far as I know. Now that I think about it, maybe I should check up on him. See how he's doing."

"I keep seeing him with a kid who everyone calls his daughter. That can't be the same girl that you were talking about."

"Wait a minute, you've seen him?" her mother asked.

"Whoops…that slipped out. He's my boss at the IT department. I just wanted to know a few more things about him because he's a bit weird."

"Still using that word 'weird'. You would think someone in your shoes would hesitate to describe someone like that. You know most don't even think that there are entire races of people that don't reside on Earth? Yet you live with that proof every day. You are that proof along with Machi, along with Jensen. If anything, Auden is remarkably normal compared to you. I've sheltered you a bit so that I could keep you safe and away from the judging, prying eyes of the public. You've always been protected by wealth and having that last name. At least in this city, it's not likely anyone would bother you. You take away those things and you're presented with a world that may not be all roses and sunshine. If anything we are as far removed from 'normal' as one could get."

Bra realized after a moment, that her mother was right. All the things that appeared abnormal in her eyes was likely nothing compared to how she might appear to other people if they knew. Malachi knew and he had still accepted her without even a question. It wasn't something she had told him straight away and he didn't even believe her when she said it, but that made him no less interested in her. He embraced her completely, even went out of his way to understand the world that she lived in. She wondered if she had done the same for him, if she had afforded him the same kind of understanding. She knew the answer to that.

"By the way, convenient not telling me you worked with him before having me tell you all that. It's a bit personal, I would appreciate you not relaying it to him. He never told me to keep such things to myself, but it doesn't seem right that that kind of thing should be told to others. I'm telling you this in confidence, alright?"

Bra grinned knowingly at her. "I was just curious. Really curious. Every time I come to work, I'm lovingly 'greeted' by his so-called daughter. I have no idea what the deal is with her."

"Who knows?" her mother said with a shrug. "Adoption is still certainly a thing. You've seen him recently. How does he seem these days?"

"I don't know—he seems fine. He's pretty popular where he works though and he seems to get along well with everyone. I had an interview with him and he was super straight to the point."

"Sounds like him," her mother said with a chuckle. "I'm glad it doesn't look like people are giving him a hard time."

"Not while being surrounded by other nerds, all who are really into their computers and coding."

"Nerds? And what does that make me?"

"You do all the cool building stuff not like what we do at work."

"And are you enjoying your time there?" her mother asked.

"It's not bad," Bra admitted, "Everyone's pretty welcoming and everyone's willing to help me out."

"I would imagine so. I'm sure everyone's on their best behavior around you."

"Because of who I am?" Bra asked catching on.

"Now you're getting it," her mother said as she stood up. "You just remember that when you notice so many people being so nice to you and when every door seems to open with little effort on your part. Cherish the people who aren't afraid to challenge you and call you out when you're doing something wrong."

Bra watched as her mother made her way to the entrance of her room.

"Well, I've done enough talking for tonight. Let's hope your laptop will fare better in the future."

Bra looked down almost completely forgetting the mangled device. It reminded her of all the mistakes she'd ever made and how there was still so much she didn't know. When she looked up again, her mother had disappeared. For the time being, she was left to herself.


	56. M-Town

**The time came a little too quickly for Malachi to see his son off to school.** He wanted Jensen to attend school and he knew it would be good for him, but that didn't stop him from worrying about him. What if Jensen didn't fit in at all, what if he was sending him off to the worst place possible? He knew how judgmental children could be; adults were hardly any better. By the time Malachi was driving him to the school, he was having some real trouble with the reality that Jensen would be away from him for a good portion of the day and Jensen would be left to fend for himself in a sea of questionable peers. Maybe it would be a complete disaster.

He couldn't drop his son off directly in front of the building as it would be too risky given how easily recognizable he was. Jensen understood and made little fuss as he parked his car on the other side of the school where it was currently deserted. Jensen was well-prepared with his bookbag filled with all the necessary supplies—they'd gone out a few days ago to get these. Jensen smiled at him before exiting the car.

"Stay safe," Malachi said to the energetic child.

"I will, Daddy, don't worry," Jensen said climbing out the car now.

"You can call me anytime, you know," Malachi said before the other could close the door.

"I know, Daddy," he said looking back at him.

"Alright."

Malachi watched as Jensen took his first few steps forward and then as he eventually disappeared around the corner. He was gone and Malachi found that his eyes were fixed on that point in which he couldn't see him anymore. All of a sudden, not even a full minute later, Jensen came rushing back to him. Concerned yet relieved, Malachihe opened his door to receive him in his arms—an unspoken request between them. Jensen embraced him almost desperately not wanting to leave his side it seemed. They'd spent weeks together nearly inseparable with only a few instances in which they were apart for no more than a few hours. However, school would be different. They'd be absent from each other for seven hours or perhaps more in a far more routine way. It was disheartening to say the least especially when Malachi depended on Jensen's presence emotionally more than he'd like to admit. But Malachi believed this was necessary even as he held Jensen closely and ran his hand gently down from the crown of his head.

"You'll be late on your first day of school, if we carry on like this for much longer," Malachi said after a while. The sound of children in the distance was beginning to fade.

Jensen looked up at him with wistful eyes. "Will you be okay?"

"I'll be fine," Malachi said releasing his hold on him. "Now get going," he said in a firmer tone. "Don't worry about me—you have school to focus on."

"Okay," Jensen said after a moment before pulling away from him.

This time Jensen took off running knowing that he was likely going to be late at this rate, but not without giving his father a final wave. Malachi sat there for a while longer even after he was certain Jensen must have entered the building. His door was still open and a crisp wind continued to blow in. It took him the longest time to turn the car back on and leave the premises.

* * *

 **The day had dragged on and on and Malachi felt as if an eternity had passed before he saw Jensen once again and he'd parked at the same spot as before nearly an hour before school actually ended.** He waited with bated breaths as the time finally came and he heard the voices of excited children leaving the building to head to the buses. Where was Jensen? His index finger began tapping on the steering wheel. Nearly five minutes passed before he saw Jensen come running around the corner. Malachi could see almost immediately that there were tears in his eyes. Horrified, he stepped out of the car to receive him once again in his arms, but this time he'd squatted down to the other's height. He could feel Jensen's wet tears beginning to soak his shirt. It was making him physically sick the longer the other continued in this way. Eventually, he could bear it no more as he gently pulled Jensen back so that he could speak.

"What the hell happened?" Malachi asked earnestly.

"Nothing, Daddy, nothing happened. I just want to go home."

Malachi looked down at him with concern. "This doesn't seem like 'nothing'."

"I just want to go home," Jensen repeated, but in a quieter voice.

"Fine, kid, we'll do that. But you have to tell me what's wrong before the day's out."

Malachi eventually stood up and Jensen made his way over to the passenger's side and quickly got in—Malachi did the same. For a while, the two of them drove in silence. Malachi didn't even bother turning on music sensing that the other wanted some peace and quiet. He always feared the day would end like this. After pushing his son to go to school because he thought it would be good for him, in the end, it was nothing but. If only he'd simply gone with his first instincts…

"It's not your fault," Jensen said.

It was the first thing he'd said in a while and it seemed it was only out of concern for someone other than himself. Malachi sighed exasperatedly. He wondered for the umpteenth time if the child could also read his mind—it wouldn't surprise him in the least.

"Were you being bullied?" Malachi finally asked.

Jensen shook his head no.

Despite himself, he was relieved to hear this, but then what terrible thing had happened at school? And why did no one call him if it was something more serious? "You disliked your teacher?"

"No, that was the good part, the learning. It was really easy and fun. Mrs. Oxendine was really nice to me and everyone. If it was only that, I wouldn't mind going back."

Malachi waited patiently for the other to tell him what the issue was instead of continuing to pepper him with questions. He drove a little slower, as well, so as not to jostle the other around as much.

"Everyone had their own, well, groups they were in. I introduced myself over and over again and no one cared. No one seemed to notice me. Everyone ignored me. Some even ran away from me and thought it was funny. One girl played with me at the swings at recess, but then she just ran off to her friends and I was left alone." Jensen looked over at Malachi. "Is it too late to make friends?"

"It's never too late," Malachi assured him. "Even if it looks like everyone's somehow already found their little clique. The kids who looked like they were ignoring you were doing the exact opposite. Everyone noticed you, everyone now knows how friendly and harmless you are, I'm sure of it."

"Do you think it'll be better tomorrow?" Jensen asked.

"I can't answer that," Malachi said, "That's something you'd have to see for yourself." He glanced over at Jensen, "If it's too hard, you know you don't have to go back."

"I know, but…I want to give it another chance. I have to get used to being around people—I think it's really helpful."

"Hm," Malachi said thoughtfully, "Never thought I'd hear that from you. Are you saying you want to go back tomorrow?"

Jensen nodded. "I have to."

If Jensen wanted to do it, then Malachi would not stop him, but that didn't make him feel any better about the situation. He knew it was probably better this way—it was no good to run at the first sign of trouble. On the other hand, he didn't like seeing Jensen this way; he wasn't used to it. He supposed it was impossible for someone to be happy all the time and attending school was not the best place to make it so.

Jensen didn't have homework that day so they didn't exactly have to go straight home. Instead, they drove around for quite a while around the large city. Malachi couldn't exactly step out of the car or show his face anywhere as he was not in disguise, but it was fun anyways just being able to spend time with Jensen who he had sorely missed during the few hours he was away. Malachi wasn't exactly busy at the moment so Jensen's absence was more apparent, but he knew that wouldn't always be the case. Especially if Jensen continued to attend school. Jensen would either have to take the bus or Malachi would have to hire someone else to pick him up from school on a regular basis. Very soon recording would begin and he knew his free time would become sparse.

* * *

 **Malachi did nothing more than take a quick shower and put on some decent clothes that day.** He didn't feel like messing around with make-up or hair products. He knew, with a sigh, that he was once again overdue to see a hairstylist because his hair needed to be straightened again, but it didn't matter so much for now. He wasn't going to be in the public eye, he was just going to the studio. He was just going to meet up with Quint and the rest of the crew. They knew each other. He didn't have to put on airs too much.

He tried to maintain an air of calm, but he was undeniably nervous. He'd spoken to Quint a few days ago to set things up, however, he hadn't seen him in person in quite some time. He wasn't sure if he was ready to see him again. Everything his life used to be and likely will be again started with him. Jensen was in school by now so the entire house was empty. He took his sweet time getting into the car and driving down to the studio. Being fashionably late wasn't exactly his thing, but he found he didn't care. It was just one of the many gestures he'd been giving Quint over the years to show that he was not nearly as beholden to him as he had been in the past.

The place was alive with hustle and bustle once he made it there. This being the place that he had started, it was one of _the_ most popular destinations for would-be artists to take their first steps towards stardom. Auditions were always going on and there seemed to be a never-ending flow of people trying to be signed to the record label. Over the years, the M-town record label became pickier and pickier and took less and less chances on unknowns. These days, they were looking for artists who were more established at least locally with a generous following already.

Malachi didn't have to go through the front thankfully, effectively avoiding all the ruckus he would cause just by walking through. His dark sunshades would not be enough of a disguise to shield him. Not that he minded signing autographs on the spot, he just didn't want to be there all day doing it when he had something else to do that day.

The building was a huge place having expanded its size, equipment, and functionality over the years. He stepped into the place and saw that much of it had been remodeled once again. He almost couldn't find himself to the right place he needed to go on the upper floors of the building. The decorum had become more richly and more offices had been added.

When he stepped into the right place, he could barely appreciate how much more spacious it had become before he was bombarded by Quint's presence.

"'bout time you came, boy—Almost thought we had to reschedule!" Quint said with raucous laughter which was just infectious enough to draw a smile from Malachi.

"Got a little lost finding my way here," Malachi said—it wasn't entirely true, but he went with it anyway, "Like what you've done with the place." He took off his sunshades then.

As was his usually thing, he came over for a hug which Malachi obediently gave him out of respect. At the end of the day, the man knew his craft and had done much for him over the years—there was no need to act rudely towards him. The others were there as well and he greeted them as well as graciously as he could. There was a lot of love in the room and a lot of expectations. They were at this very moment going to do the thing that each collectively loved to do and they'd already been paid a lot of money to do it—the question was whether they'd be able to do better than last time. Their own continued welfare depended on how well this album sold. Public appearances were already being set up along with possible tour dates should they finish within a certain timeframe.

"Now let me check you out," Quint said once the pleasantries were out of the way.

"Do we have to do that now?" Malachi complained.

"Oh, it's _very_ important we do this now. Better to be proactive about these things. You've been keeping up your appointments to the dermatologist?"

"Well, not really. Totally slipped my mind."

There were a lot of things that Quint wanted him to do regularly, but it would conveniently "slip his mind" if he didn't feel like doing it.

"I can tell," Quint said looking at him closely, "Luckily, you're still young so you can get away with that stuff, but you better not make that a habit. You know the best way to avoid wrinkles is to not have any in the first place.

"Yes, so you've told me before," Malachi said wearily.

Quint touched a few strands of his dark hair with a tsk. "Straight, boy, always straight hair—I know it's a pain to keep up, but it's essential. It's part of the brand."

When Quint spoke of "brand", he meant the image that Malachi was known for, the "him" that the world was meant to see which included his personality and appearance as well as his attitude and musical style. This was what his fans wanted to see, this was what the world knew him to be.

"And what if I decided I'd let it simply be curly?" Malachi said nonchalantly with a grin just to annoy the other.

"You want to look like an unkempt foreigner, some low-bred orphan then that's your prerogative. I bet you a hundred dollars they'd be more concerned about _that_ than your actual music, mark my words."

Malachi frowned at the other, knowing that he was probably right. This wasn't new information, but he'd forgotten how frank Quint could be about such things. He didn't have time to soften things, he simply said as he wanted and Malachi never complained about it, he simply accepted it. He didn't tell Quint about the many times he'd looked into a mirror and feel disgusted with his own appearance, sometimes he wasn't even sure he was looking at himself; the image that he had in his mind became too warped and blurry to refer to. Quint wanted him to look a certain way and that was the only thing which kept him afloat as his own opinion of himself became nearly nonexistent. And Quint _had_ to be right—because other people would give him compliments. Yet the issue remained unresolved as his own self-image became unrecognizable, alien and grotesque. He did as he was told. He followed conventions. Fashion was one thing, but everything else besides that dealt with one's appearance was another thing altogether. He avoided staring into a mirror as much as he could or paying it much attention—he was frightened of what he might find there.

He kept these things to himself from everyone else, even Bra, even Pan. He knew it wasn't normal and he did not want to make much ado about it. He functioned as if these thoughts didn't plague him and he became an expert in disguising its presence.

"I'll see to a hairstylist soon enough," Malachi said back with a shrug. It was a simple thing to do. This would make people like him; this was beauty.

Malachi was used to this sort of thing so it did not feel odd for the other to be inspecting him so closely in the way one might inspect a car before purchasing.

"Don't worry, you'll thank me later down the road. Now what's this? You look like you haven't been sleeping well."

"I haven't," Malachi admitted.

"You know they have medication for that sort of thing. I suggest seeing a doctor about that—you'll need your rest from here on out."

Malachi gave the other a solemn nod just as the other lifted his shirt a little to see the state of his physique. Malachi could tell from the other's expression that he was not impressed with what he saw.

"Now, I understand you've gained a bit of muscle which isn't a bad thing, but it has to be way more defined than that—none of that in-between stages. You either lose it or get some more definition—it's easier to do the latter. What's with all the bruises?"

Malachi grinned despite himself. "Extreme sports."

"Hm? Didn't know you were into that. Well, nothing make-up can't fix, but I'd take it easy on the sports for now lest you do irreparable damage to yourself."

"Yes, I'll isolate myself into a room full of pillows," Malachi said with some mirth.

"You know what I mean, boy," Quint said with a bit of edge to his tone.

"Of course," Malachi replied with exaggerated pleasantness that he was sure the other noticed. "I'll try not to get myself into trouble."

"Alright," Quint said with an exasperated sigh though satisfied since he asked no more questions on the subject. "Mentally—how are you doing?"

It was a loaded question, but Malachi knew what the man wanted. He was hardly ever mentally one-hundred percent—not when he habitually thought too deeply on things, not when his own abnormal upbringing gave him little stable foundation to stand on. Quint wasn't asking about those things which could not be fixed. Even so, Malachi knew he was not exactly in a good place and he would hard-pressed not to disclose this to the man. There was no sense in hiding things from Quint—he'd always been full disclosure with the man and he saw no reason to change things now. "Not entirely well," Malachi said slowly, "I just broke up with a long-time girlfriend of mine and it's been difficult coping."

"I see," Quint said with uncharacteristic understanding in his eyes. "Bra Briefs, is it? Don't look at me like that—you know it's hard to keep things under wraps. Media's been having a field day about it. I hate to say it, but it's probably for the best. It's notoriously difficult to keep up with datinga family when you already have a long-standing relationship with music. You'll be more focused and more creative. Did you love her?"

"More than anyone else," he said back without hesitation.

Quint gave him a sympathetic look. "I have a doctor I want you to see for that."

"A therapist?" Malachi asked.

"No time for all that. A doctor that can prescribe you something that can help you get over that faster. You'll need it, trust me. So what happened? How did you guys end up calling it quits?"

He pursed his lips before speaking. "The same reason as always."

"There's medication for _that_ too," Quint said with a knowing look

"I don't think that would work," Malachi said dismissively.

"It's not a physical thing," Quint said slowly, "We know that already. Everything works just fine, nothing wrong with your hormones, but mentally _that_ 's what's different. This would be a neurological drug."

"I don't know if I'd feel comfortable taking something like that on a daily basis."

"You could go a step further and make it permanent."

Malachi looked at the other thoughtfully. "Remind me again one day when I'm utterly desperate. It's too late anyhow."

"Alright," Quint said, "Just want you mentally prepared for all of this. If there's anything that you need or if you happen to change your mind about anything, all you have to do is ask. Now are you ready to work?"

"I've been ready ages ago. Let's make some magic today."

"That's what I like to hear."

They had quite a few songs on the table at the moment. Malachi had already looked at a few of them liking how some of them sounded. Some were right down his alley, some were a little riskier. They only had a vague idea of what this album's overarching theme would be, but they both agreed that it had to be different from the last two and it had to be edgier and less bubblegum and dance tunes.

"You said, you wanted to have more input," Quint said as they discussed which ones they'd be focusing on today.

"Yeah," Malachi said with a raised eyebrow looking at the sagely man.

"Well then, let's see what you got. Write me some songs and I'll put the music to it. We'll see where it goes from there."

Malachi was momentarily speechless.

"Isn't that what you wanted?" Quint asked probably not sure how to gauge the other's quiet reaction.

"Yes, yes, it is. I'll have something for you very soon."

"Remember, don't make it so complicated—it's just a song. It has to be easily digestible and it also doesn't have to make complete sense. It just has to _feel_ right."

"I got you," Malachi said with a nod. "I understand."

Even during the session that morning, Malachi was bursting with excited energy over the prospects of having more involvement in what would be on this album. He was sure that he understood the gist of how to write a decent song, he'd seen how it was done countless times. This time would be different from his earlier attempts. He'd take greater care to have a subject in mind as he wrote. In fact, his hands were itching to start writing something down right in that instant, but he knew he'd have time later. There was one thing that he really wanted, however: —a duet and he wanted it to be with Marron. That would be perfect. The icing on the cake. Midway through the session that day, Malachi declared this to Quint who was a bit dubious about bringing in an unknown.

"Trust me," Malachi said reassuringly, "She's a natural. She has a beautiful voice."

"But would it pair well with your voice? Yours is a very specific kind of sound." You can't just have a duet with any old nice sounding voice."

"I think so. There's only one way to find out," Malachi said.

"Alright," Quint said relenting, "Bring her in—I want to hear her for myself."

That was all the cue that Malachi needed. While they were taking a recess, Malachi stepped outside to see if she was available on such short notice. He hadn't realized it until now, but ever since he'd heard her sing, he'd wanted to sing along with her. Just hearing her voice was inspiring. He needed that right now more than he had anticipated.

The phone rang and rang before sending him to voicemail. With an exasperated sigh, he called thrice more. Malachi was amazed at how easily his excitement could die down after a few missed calls. He had no idea what Marron could be doing at this time. He knew so little about her that she could be doing anything. He called her once more and this seemed to do the trick.

"Who _is_ this? Please stop—"

"It's me Malachi." He'd forgotten that he'd obtained her number through Pan instead of asking her. The night had ended so quickly that he didn't have the chance to get her number and later on he'd asked Pan for it.

"Malachi? You really have my number? World famous popstar Malachi deems me important enough to have in his contact list?" Marron asked with a laugh.

There was some yelling in the background in which Marron yelled back to with a bit of hositilityhostility.

"My boyfriend doesn't believe me," Marron said drily. "This isn't the best time to be calling me though."

"I need you right now," Malachi began in earnest.

"What?" Marron asked mystified.

"I want to do a duet with you for my next album."

"A-Are you serious? This seems so out of the blue."

"I know. Sorry for the short notice, but it just came to me. Are you busy now?"

"Well…um…I—right now's not a great time. I don't have a ride."

Malachi was slightly confused by this as he'd bought her a new car last time they were out, but he decided it wasn't worth mentioning. "That's alright. I can come pick you up."

There was more silence over the phone, but he could still hear yelling in the background.

"Marron—what's wrong?"

"Now's not a good time okay?" Marron said after Malachi heard what sounded like something loud and glass hitting a wall.

"Wait, Marron—"

But the call ended abruptly. He vaguely thought about calling her back, but he'd heard her loud and clear. He knew, however, that he couldn't just let things be especially when his common sense was telling him that something wasn't right. He knew her to be a secretive woman who didn't necessarily share things even if it was 's harmless information. She wouldn't tell him what was happening even if he got on his knees and begged and certainly not if he called her again. She hadn't sounded like herself on the phone. He had to make sure she was alright.

He knew a few people who might know where she lived, but he knew only one person he could ask with the least amount of repercussions. This being the middle of the day, however, he knew Pan might be busy. He called her anyway.

"Come on, come on," Malachi muttered to himself as he began to pace.

He was placed on voicemail. Instead of ending the call and trying again, he decided it would be better to leave her a message. A constantly ringing phone likely would have been extremely inconvenient.

"Hey, Pan, it's me Malachi. Call me as soon as it's convenient or text me—whichever. I think Marron might be in some trouble. I need to know where she lives so I can be sure. When I called her, it sounded like things were being thrown around."

He ended it at this and then began towards his car. He eventually sat in it with growing anticipation. He turned on some music, but it did little to calm him. Anything could be happening right now to Marron and there was nothing he could do for it. The more he thought about it, the more his distress mounted. Why would anything be crashing to the ground? Why was there yelling? What kind of boyfriend did she really have? Or better yet, what was it she did all day? Did she even work?

When his phone alerted him, he received a text from Pan. _She may be in trouble, please make sure she's alright. Her address is…_ Pan typed out the Marron's exact address and Malachi easily placed this into his GPS. It was an hour and a half away. _Thank you._ , he texted back to her quickly. With this he drove off speedily. Pan asked far less questions than expected. She likely knew something about what was going on and was hoping he could handle things. He supposed the reason she hadn't called was because she was in the middle of something. This was good enough anyway.

Malachi swerved easily around cars trying to make the best time possible. His anxiousness only increased as he pressed on the pedal more and more. He didn't have enough evidence to go off of to conclusively say she was in danger, but that gave him little comfort. Not knowing was far worse. After about an hour, he found himself in a modest neighborhood. He hoped he'd be stopping somewhere around there, but the GPS continued to take him deeper and deeper until he found himself in a neighborhood that was only a step up from the projects. The houses looked old and rundown. They were all in need of refurbishing. A few properties already had "For Sale" signs out in the front yard. Some mailboxes leaned to the side, yards were unkempt and needed care, house numbers were either missing or hard to see—the place he was looking for happened to be of the latter. In faded numbers, however, he found the right place and carefully he drove his conspicuous top down convertible onto the empty driveway.

Without further ado, he climbed out of the car and made his way quickly to the front door. He was out in public with no disguise, he reminded himself. He had to make this quick. With luck, no one would notice. He hadn't seen any curious onlookers so far. The nearby residents seemed to keep to themselves. He knocked on the door with a bit of strength, but when he heard yelling, he dispensed with the formalities and opened a surprisingly unlocked door.

He rushed to where he heard the noises and his eyes beheld something that was beyond anything he'd been expecting. Marron was kicking and screaming, helplessly huddled on a bed as a large, rotund man continued whaling on her with large, puffy fists that struck relentlessly. Without even a second thought, Malachi grabbed the nape of the large man's dingy green T-shirt and threw him forcefully onto the ground.

"NO, NO, NO!" Marron began yelling. "Don't hurt him!"

Malachi barely heard her over his own raised voice telling off the now pitiful man. "Who the _hell_ do you think you are!? How _dare_ you?! Give me one reason why I shouldn't snap your neck right here and now?!" He'd lifted the crumbled man easily off the ground.

" _Please_ , Malachi, don't kill him!" she shouted desperately. He felt her pulling on his arm now. "Please. Don't," she pleaded.

She was crying openly now, but all Malachi could see was the man he held tightly in his grip. The shirt was beginning to tear into his skin as his grip tightened.

The brown-haired man was sputtering, barely making comprehensible words. "M-M-Malachi?" he managed to say. "…s-some kin-kinda…twilight zone…" The man's pine green eyes seemed glazed over.

Malachi raised his other hand now tightly clenched, totally capable of knocking his head clean off his neck. Marron cried out in horror likely knowing what the other was intending.

"You don't understand. He didn't mean it!" She was pulling harder now, but she might as well had been pulling on a ton of bricks.

Malachi watched the man's eyes roll back and become limp in his grasp. He held him a moment longer before letting the man slip from his hand and drop to the ground unceremoniously. He watched as Marron scrambled over to the man's side crying and calling out his name in a moving show of concern and sorrow.

"Marron, let's go—we can't stay here," Malachi said holding out his hand to her.

She ignored him as she continued to cry.

"Marron!" Malachi said sharply causing her to flinch. He used a calmer voice upon seeing this. "Come on, you need some fresh air."

"I can't leave him. I know you don't understand, but I just can't."

"I'll call for the ambulance—they'll make sure he's taken care of."

She turned to look at him after a moment. "You promise?"

"Yes," Malachi confirmed. He gestured again for her to take his hand.

After a final look at the man, she took up his hand and Malachi helped her up. Carefully, he made his way through the house with Marron at his side. It wasn't until they stepped out into the sunlight that he could see the bruising she'd gathered on her exposed arms—defensive bruising from trying to protect herself from his hefty punches. It made him angry just thinking about it. Against someone so defenseless, what excuse could anyone have for attacking such a person? More importantly, why was Marron so concerned for him? Once they got to the car, he opened the passenger's side and helped her onto the seat.

"Call them," Marron demanded, "Call them right now. He needs help."

"So do you," Malachi said as he took out his phone.

"I'll be fine. I have a senzu bean that I always keep close to me." She was fishing now in her pocket before Malachi stopped her with a gentle hand.

"If you take that now, you'll be hiding the evidence. You need to let them see what's happened."

"You're going to stop me?" Marron challenged the other.

Malachi looked at the other squarely, daring her to take out the miraculous bean. She gazed at him unabashedly without blinking as she found the bean and placed it in her mouth defiantly. He didn't have the heart to stop her not to mention the fact that he was hyperallergic to even the smallest presence of legumes. What would he have done anyway? Grappled it away from her? She'd been through enough already.

With a sigh, he called 911 and calmly gave the operator all the pertinent information. They would be on their way promptly. Malachi only mentioned that the man had fallen unconscious for unknown reasons and that he'd simply been visiting. Marron looked quite relieved. Her feet still touched the pavement as she sat sideways in the car seat. Her head leaned against the armrest.

"Always with your nice cars, rich boy," Marron said with closed eyes. She'd calmed down quite a bit.

"Marron, what happened back there?"

"How about you tell me how you found me out here? Did you have me tracked or something?"

"No—Pan was concerned and told me to make sure you were alright."

"I get it. You tricked her into telling you my address."

"I would have let the matter rest if I hadn't heard all that yelling in the background. Both of us was worried about you. I'm glad I came."

"Well, you got me. You have what you came for. Let's just go."

"You don't want to stay for the ambulance?"

"I know he'll be safe now. I don't need to be around when they come."

"Alright," Malachi said uncertainly.

He did as she asked and climbed into the car. He waited for her to pull her legs in and close the door. Slowly, he made his way out of the driveway and began making his way out of the neighborhood.

"Where did you want me to take you?" Malachi asked.

Marron snorted at this. "Don't try to act like you came out of concern. You want me to do some ridiculous singing gig with you."

"I do; minus the ridiculous part."

"I don't understand," Marron said with a laugh. "Why do you seem so fixated on me singing? Just like at the karaoke bar."

"Maybe no one's told you before, but your voice is exquisite, it's the most beautiful thing I've heard up close in a long time."

"You sure you're just not super biased? You do remember that _I_ was the first person you heard upon waking from that coma."

"I had a feeling," he said, "But I was never sure. It was really annoying not knowing. It's as if, you didn't want me to know that. Must everything be so secretive with you?"

"Maybe you should try it sometimes. I don't know how you can stand having all your private information on display for everyone to see."

"I don't have any choice in the matter. The more I try to keep to myself, the more the tabloids have their way with things. It's a small price to pay, all things considering. I'd rather people know the truth than a fabricated lie."

"Well, I'm glad I'm not in your shoes," Marron said with a frown. "Something's always bothered me though ever since you woke up from your coma: Do you remember anything I said to you?"

Malachi was quiet for a while unintentionally making the other squirm a little in her seat. "Bits and pieces at first, anytime I managed to close my eyes. Mostly, I thought it was just odd little disjointed dreams only it felt as if it actually happened. It was a woman's voice so I didn't feel comfortable telling Bra about it so I just…kept it to myself."

"So you remember everything?" Marron asked worriedly.

"I guess," Malachi replied with a shrug.

"What do you mean, 'you guess'? You either do or don't."

"I don't know what 'everything' is to know. It all runs together. I'm not sure what comes first or last. My memory is pretty unreliable and it's not as if I've been desperately trying to remember. It sounded personal."

Marron who'd been looking at him steadily turned her head towards the window once again. "You must know then about my boyfriend."

"You talked about him a lot," Malachi said.

"He's never done anything like what you saw back there before. You have to believe me when I say that."

"I do. I don't recall you ever saying something like that, but even if that wasn't the case—Pan would not have let this continue if this was happening all the time. She would have noticed. She would have stepped in."

"Pan, the do-gooder. She certainly would have done something. That woman doesn't know when not to stick her neck out."

"I think it's an admirable quality."

"It's annoying, but I trust her at the very least. Anyway, his name is Lucas and he was diagnosed with lupus last year and it's been difficult just trying to treat the symptoms. One of the new drugs they have him on must have changed him somehow. The local hospital near here—they'll know who he is. They'll know how to treat him."

"How did you two meet?" Malachi asked. "He doesn't exactly seem like your type."

"Oh? And you know who my type is? He's a bit on the chubby side, but he's a teddy bear. I just want a guy who cares about me and he showed me that in abundance. We met in college. I wasn't looking for anyone. I never am. I bumped into him one day when I was late for class and he ended up walking me to it. I'd been so anxious before, so terrified about actually being late to class, but just like that he put me at ease. I know you probably don't believe me, but he's a kind-hearted man. I'd never met anyone like him before.

"Ever since he was diagnosed, he just hasn't been himself and they've switched medications on him many times. He used to be such a happy person and then he became so negative. He hardly leaves the house anymore and I always have to make sure he's alright. We pretty much exist on government money on account of his disability and losing his job. Lately, he's been becoming more and more aggressive. I think it's the steroids."

"Then he has to stop taking them," Malachi said.

"That's not an option. Not if he wants to continue living. That's the one thing that never changed."

"If that's the case, then—"

"Why do I think it's the steroids? Because it's the only thing that makes sense. They've had to increase his dosage and that's the only drug he takes that can actually explain what's happening."

"So he has to keep taking that and every time he does, it means that you'll continue to get hurt."

"You have no room to talk," Marron said haughtily.

"What are you talking about?"

"Says the guy who's in an emotionally abusive relationship with Bra, only it makes even less sense. Sorry, but I can't picture her as the kind-hearted type. She hardly cares about anything that isn't about her."

"You don't know her like I do," Malachi said defensively.

"On the contrary, I think I know her _better_ than you. She made you feel less than a person, completely worthless. She made you feel like life wasn't worth living anymore—don't argue, I could tell from the look in your eyes. I've seen it before. That's what she's capable of doing even to the person who she claims to love and she'll continue to do that over and over again until it destroys you. She's toxic to anyone who ever gets close to her—she's only bearable in small doses."

"The person you're describing—that's not her at all. That's not how I remember her."

"I'm doing you a favor and telling you things that you need to hear. I didn't expect there'd ever be anyone foolish enough to stay with her for more than a few months yet here you are against all odds. Look at what she's already done to you. Have you forgotten about how she almost killed you?"

"How do you know about that?"

"For one, it was all over the news about you being hospitalized and this was while I knew full well that you were dating her. Bra told Pan. Pan told me. Tell me, Malachi, what would you do if you knew you were born with strength beyond most people? For the safety of others and having to live amongst everyone else and even wanting a relationship with someone who wouldn't be like yourself, wouldn't you try to at least have some control over it? She didn't care about those things because it wasn't something she liked doing. That was all it took for her to ignore it completely. She continually accidently breaks things and even hurts people, but to this day she sees no merits in being more accountable for herself."

"She didn't ask to be born that way," Malachi began.

"Sure, and I didn't ask for the sky to be blue yet I deal with it like everyone else. How difficult would it be for her to learn to control her own strength? I bet it would take no time at all. Aside from that, I'm sure it doesn't end there. Now look where you are: abandoned and alone."

"She's certainly not perfect," Malachi said after a moment, "And it does no one any good focusing in on the negative. I wasn't the best either."

"What are you going on about? Anyone who can put up with Bra for that long and make her brag about someone other than herself must have been beyond perfect—not in a literal sense, of course, but you know what I mean, as far as relationships go."

Malachi shook his head. "Whatever your opinion might be—it doesn't matter anyhow. Me and her are through."

"For now, until she gets tired of the whole breakup thing and calls you up again as if nothing ever happened."

"She wouldn't do that."

"Barring something miraculously life-changing happening to her, she'll soon realize just how limited her options really are and have enough sense to try and start over and you'll be the fool who will humor her."

"Both you and Pan have said similar things. I won't believe it until I see it. Besides, how did we get on this subject? We were talking about you, weren't we?"

"I'm done talking about me. You know too much as it is."

"So be it," Malachi said not willing to press the issue. "But I'm glad that you're here alive and well."

"I bet you are. Exploiting me for your own gain."

"I'm not forcing you to do it. You can say no if you want."

Marron laughed softly. "I'm only joking. Anyone would be honored to do a duet with you—I hope you know that."

"Well, I don't know about that—I'm just happy you agreed. It's like a dream come true."

"Seriously?" Marron asked with another laugh. "Are you just being modest to get on my nerves or are you always this way?"

Malachi gave her a side glance as he grinned to himself. "I can hear how I sound as I sing—I've listened to recordings of it played on the radio and I can't say I've ever been overly impressed. I've heard better. I just know that I enjoy doing it and I'm extremely grateful that others even care to listen. Sometimes it all just seems a bit surreal. Sorry if that gets on your nerves."

"Way too modest for a world-famous superstar. I'm surprised you don't have someone driving us. But I get it. That's why you've never lost your edge all these years because you always think you haven't done your best."

"I haven't done my best," Malachi said in agreement, "That's why I need you to sing with me. Maybe something special could come out of it."

"Maybe," Marron said with far less enthusiasm.

"It's not just for me. I think it'll be good for you as well. It won't be like how it was at the karaoke bar. It'll be a lot less people."

"Sure, Malachi, tell me anything. You want me to record something with you. It's just so short notice."

"I doubt we'll be recording anything today," Malachi said, "Quint just wants to hear you."

"Who's Quint?"

"The producer—the guy who puts the music to the words."

"Oh, I see. So is he like your boss?"

"No, it's a collaborative thing. If anything, M-town records is my boss. They pretty much own me—in a sense. That's where we're going."

"Malachi—owned by a record label," she said with a laugh. "Sounds more like you're a product than an actual person."

"Ah, well, it's a small price to pay. They just care about the numbers, but it's the only working environment I've ever known. It's not so bad. You don't have to worry about all that. All you have to do is sing."

"You make it sound so easy."

"Isn't it?"

"For you maybe," Marron said with a sigh, "I'm just interested enough to see where this goes. To be honest, you had me at duet."

Malachi felt her eyes on him again which drew a smile from him. "Good."

Marron took it upon herself to turn on the radio which the two of them listened to for the remainder of the trip and the music was often playing full blast; Marron loved cranking up the volume even more than what Malachi was accustomed to. Partway through, Malachi called up Quint to inform him perhaps a bit too after the fact that he would be late and that he'd ran into some issues along the way. The reasonably upset Quint soon calmed somewhat when Malachi reassured him that he was on his way and that he had Marron with him. Quint wasn't exactly thrilled, but Malachi found that he didn't care. He would hear her and come to the same conclusion as he—he hoped so anyway.

Once they arrived at the place, Malachi led her to the upstairs recording studio. It was like watching a kid in a candy store the way her eyes lit up with interest as she beheld the place. She kept pointing at things asking what this and that was and Malachi was all too eager to answer her. A place like this was nothing new to him, but it did still evoke a sense of wonder and respect for all the instruments and machinery that made music as it was now, possible.

"Nice of you to finally grace us with your presence," Quint said upon them entering the room. "And this is the woman you keep going on about?"

"The name's Marron," she said before Malachi could introduce the two. "You must be Quint."

"Very observant," the man said back. "Well, have at it then—let me hear you."

"Wait, right now?" Marron asked.

Malachi noticed immediately her nervousness and he stepped a little closer to her. "Don't worry, it's nothing," he said drawing her attention.

"What do I sing?" Marron asked, "I can't just do things on the spot."

Malachi thought for a moment. "How about the song you did for karaoke last time? It seemed like you really liked that one."

"I do, but…" Marron's eyes travelled to Quint who watched her with expectant eyes.

She seemed to visibly clam up as she stood a little a taller. One of her fists clenched for a moment as her expression became unfathomable. Then just like that she turned on her heels and began storming towards the exit. Quint shrugged dismissively having nothing further to say on the matter.

"Just wait," Malachi said to him just before he followed the suddenly riled woman. "Hold on, Marron," Malachi said with a slightly raised voice when he was close enough to her. "What happened back there? Where are you going?"

She stopped in her tracks when she heard his voice. "I can't do it, Malachi. Sorry. I don't know what I was thinking when I agreed to come."

"That's fine," Malachi said. This caused her to turn back to him. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to and you don't have to apologize. You're free to leave."

"Silly, I can't go anywhere—you're my ride," she said as she approached him again. "So, I guess I'm just stuck here. It's a whole lot different when you're in a room by yourself singing—no one's watching you, no one can judge. Now, people can hear me. And Quint is literally there to judge me."

"Don't mind him. Pretend like he's not there. I'll even look away like last time."

Marron didn't respond directly to him. With a huff, she simply strolled past him taking up one of his hands and pulling him along as she made her way back to where Quint stood now impatient. They stood next to a table filled with music sheets and other musical paraphernalia. On this, Malachi leaned back against with hands pressed onto the table from behind as Marron stood before Quint once again.

"I need a mic," Marron declared.

Malachi looked onto the table and found a pencil with a well-formed eraser tip. He handed this to Marron.

"Perfect," she said with a grin.

Malachi started to look away, but Marron approached him and shook her head no. She placed a gentle hand upon his chin and turned his head towards her.

"This is for you because I know you really want to hear me sing."

Malachi decided not to say anything further as she gave him a knowing look. There was a brief pause in which he was sure she was now convincing herself to go through with it. Her gaze upon him became quite intense and he made sure to give her an encouraging smile. He wanted her to feel safe and that he'd like anything she'd manage to do that day.

Then she started singing. There was a nervous shake to her voice in the beginning, but when she finally returned his smile her voice noticeably improved. To Malachi, it was simply magnificent. It felt as if they were the only two in the room and he was experiencing everything right along with her. By the time she got to the hook, she'd moved closer still to him so that the "mic" was in his vicinity as well. She wanted him to join her and he did not leave her hanging. It was a hook which repeated the same phrase four times— _You are, the only exception—_ , she sang the first, he sang the second, she the third, and together they finished the forth iteration. Then they sang the second verse together:

 _Maybe I know, somewhere  
Deep in my soul  
That love never lasts  
And we've got to find other ways  
To make it alone  
But keep a straight face_

 _And I've always lived like this  
Keeping a comfortable, distance  
And up until now  
I had sworn to myself that I'm content  
With loneliness_

 _Because none of it was ever worth the risk_

His often sharp, distinct voice was softer and more round here as he consciously tried to match the tone she'd set. It was a sound often used in slower tempo songs like this one. He couldn't stop himself from smiling because it was as if he was floating on clouds singing with someone who's voice he adored. She seemed to appreciate his efforts as well as they moved into the hook again doing it the same way as last time. Then at the emotionally-fueled bridge, he let Marron take center stage as he knew that she'd fully invested herself in the song. She could probably hear the music in her own head as did he. Then he joined her again for the hook, but that was when Quint cut them off.

"Alright, alright, I've heard enough," Quint said.

Marron held his gaze steady, but it was only when she turned away to look at Quint that the spell was broken.

"Your voice is decent enough," he said. "But more importantly, it seems to work well with his. I see a bit of intimacy between you two and it comes across in the vocals. I think that would work for a single."

"Decent, he says," Malachi said with a grin.

"I call it like I hear it," Quint said with a shrug.

Marron had handed Malachi the pencil with a triumphant look on her face. "There, I did it—am I done now?"

"Yep, that's all I needed from you today, miss," Quint said as he looked over at Malachi now. "Well, this is your little project. Bring me the lyrics to this little duet and we'll go from there."

"That won't be a problem," Malachi said unperturbed by the man, "I know I'll come up with something."

He was very confident of this fact even though he had nothing at this point. He knew he just needed a few hours to himself and he'd be writing out words that simply came to him. He was inspired and he now had a purpose.

There were still quite a few hours left in the session that day and Marron was interested enough to stay the whole time despite Malachi offering to have someone take her wherever she needed to go. Usually sessions would last even longer than it did that day, but it was the first day and they'd been flying a bit blind, throwing things into the air and bouncing ideas off of one another. Some they kept, many they tossed. By the end, of the day, Malachi had a more succinct picture of how the album should sound and what kind of songs they should be going for. All that was left was the words—a trifle issue at the end of the day. Feeling was something that came about from the music itself and the tone that he set, the words were the icing on the cake and that icing could be as decadent as he so chose.

The sun had just set by the time they left the place and Marron was far more energetic than she had been upon entering the place. Being surrounded by music all day had done wonders for her overall mood.

"I mean, I can't imagine doing this for a living, but I can see why someone could do it. I don't know if I'd be able to contain myself after a while."

"You'd get used to it," Malachi said knowingly. "You'd still enjoy it, but eventually it would become more commonplace, more normal."

"And I never want that to happen," Marron said as they walked to the car.

"Well, if you ever change your mind, you can always call either myself or Quint."

"Are you offering me a job?" Marron asked quizzically.

"I'm just offering you choices," he said back smoothly.

Marron shook her head. "Call it what you want, but I'd never want to be in the spotlight, not for very long. I don't want my business all out there. You realize I can just do a quick internet search and I pretty much know everything about you."

They climbed into the car then.

"You would just know the facts and a few quotes here or there, but you wouldn't know _me_ per sé."

"Splitting hairs," she said with a sigh. "Even with all that money, this still isn't the kind of life for me. Right now, I just want to see how Lucas is doing. I've…kind of neglected him today. I didn't mean to stay away so long."

"I'll get you there. Just tell me where you need to go."

"What about you? Don't you have some prior engagements?"

"Just to go home at night, make sure Jensen's alright. I have someone there watching him until I get back."

"Oh," she said thoughtfully. "So it's just you and Jensen these days."

"It's not nearly as depressing as it sounds," Malachi said starting up the car and beginning to pull out.

"I wasn't trying to make it sound that way. I think it's nice. It sounds stress-free. I bet it's a far cry from having to deal with Bra day in and day out."

"Alright, I get it, you're staunchly against her. But," he continued as he thought further on it, "You're right. It's been relaxing. I'm not used to having someone, let alone a child, love me so unconditionally. There's hardly anything I can do that will ever upset him for long. I come home and expect only hugs and kisses from a kid who should probably be in bed a lot sooner than ten at night."

"You're going to make me barf after that last sentence. Geez, non-edgy superstar."

"Shall I change the station for the sake of my very expensive upholstery?" he asked referring to the leather that covered the inside of his car.

"Let me just say this, Malachi," she said as she turned her head to the window. "It's not the end of the world not being with Bra and when she asks you once again to be with her—and I _know_ that will happen; stop looking at me like that—you ask yourself first if it's worth it, if it's worth sacrificing the happiness you're building for yourself now. If you can honestly say yes, then by all means go back to her—but if you find you can get along quite well without her, then don't put yourself through the torture."

"I'll keep that in mind," Malachi said after a short pause.

"Good, that's all I want to hear."

"By the way, what happened to that car I got you?" Malachi asked completely changing the subject to something that had been bothering him since he'd driven to her place.

"I sold it," she said simply. "Had to. We really needed the money. Thanks to you, we still have a place to live and it's all paid off."

"But you still need a car to drive in, right?"

"I don't _need_ a car. Not really. There's all sorts of public transportation."

"None of them as convenient as having your own."

"What are you getting at?" she asked with slight annoyance.

"I'm going to get you another car," he said matter-of-factly.

"After pretty much spitting on your gift last time? You going to keep doing stuff like that for me?"

"I know that you really need it. I know that you're in a really tight spot and I'd love to help."

"Lucas'll start getting the wrong idea if you keep this up."

"Then explain it to him so he understands. If you need anything at all, just call me. I'm notoriously bad with keeping up with people, but don't ever feel like just because _I_ haven't called you that I don't still care about you. How would it look like if I just let one of my friends continue to struggle as if I can't do anything to help?"

"So we're friends now?"

"Aren't we?" he asked keeping his eyes peeled to the road. He didn't have the nerves to look at her.

Then Marron laughed. "Of course we are!" she said playfully fisting his shoulder. "I'm totally going to be friends with the guy who bought me a car no questions asked. But let me make this clear, you didn't have to do all that to impress me or to convince me that you were worth spending time with. Pan gave you the thumbs up and I trust her judgement—that's all it takes. Plus, you're kind of fun to be around and not totally annoying."

Malachi relaxed quite a bit when she said this and chanced a glance at her. Clearly, she was amused with his antics. Maybe he'd missed something once again, but she didn't divulge him as she quickly changed gears. They hadn't eaten all day and Marron wanted something quick and hot.

The rest of the night went off without a hitch. He'd taken her back to her place where Lucas waited for her. Only at the insistence of Marron, did he decide to not enter the home with her. He did, however, sit outside in his idling car for a bit, tuning in his senses to make sure nothing untoward happened. Right before he decided to leave, Lucas stepped out on the lit porch and waved good-naturedly. The aggression that Malachi had seen before was completely absent. Malachi let down his window and waved back. He didn't wait for the man to do anything further before putting his car in reverse. He wasn't sure he could stomach being around such a guy for long. Even knowing that it wasn't his fault completely, it did little to squelch his disgust. Not too long ago, he'd been the same way—Malachi wondered how Bra could even stomach him.

* * *

AN: Not sure what happened with that last sentence LOL. But I've been having internet issues. I remember that line too-thought I deleted that somewhere earlier in this chapter. Anyways. Fixed. Thanks for noticing that SierraLarson.


	57. Uncharted Territory

**"So did you talk to him?" Bulma asked Vegeta during dinner.**

Bra was at work late again and they'd decided to have dinner a bit earlier than usual—they just so happened to be at the house and Bulma had managed to throw something decent together. Pasta wasn't an altogether difficult dish to make.

"I talked to him," Vegeta said. "Once."

Bulma sighed at this. "And how did it go?"

"You know I'm not any good with this kind of thing. It went terribly. The boy didn't have much fight left in him. I don't know what was said between those two, but it seemed as if he had given up."

"No chance that he might talk to her himself?" Bulma asked.

"I doubt it and if it were to happen, it would be about Machi."

"Well, I have better news. I've talked to Bra quite a few times and I think anytime now _she_ might call him."

"You sound far too optimistic about that."

"Oh, she will," Bulma said confidently. "In the meantime, you might want to check in on Malachi, make sure he hasn't done anything stupid."

"And by stupid, you mean…"

"You talked to him on the phone—I'm sure he was none too happy. You know, he asked for my approval in marrying Bra—I said sure so long as she agrees. People usually ask the father instead of the mother." Vegeta looked at her questioningly. "Oh, nevermind, you're both hopeless."

"Well, he asked me where I got your ring from. It was obvious what he was intending."

"Then the next thing I knew, all this happened. If Jensen wasn't with him, I might have visited him myself just to make sure he was alright. I know Laputa is no longer a threat, but…"

"You're the one who keeps saying that we have nothing to worry about," Vegeta said after a moment.

"We don't," Bulma said with finality to her tone, "Not from all the evidence I have. But it's not like I can see into the future. Things could change. If something was happening, it's less likely he'd tell me about it. I haven't heard from him in a long while."

"The way I see it, none of this is any of our business," Vegeta said placing his fork down. "And at the end of the day, I just want Bra to be happy."

"You're just saying that because you don't want to have to try and 'talk' to Malachi again," Bulma said with a knowing look.

"What are we even _doing_?" Vegeta said looking away from her, "From experience, I think it's just better if we let things be."

"Normally, I'd agree with you, but this has gone on for a while now. I don't know if you noticed, but Bra has never been in a long-term relationship with anyone before. I hate to say this, but I sort of thought that it would be impossible for her."

"What do you mean?" Vegeta said with a frown.

"Well, it's no mystery to anyone that that girl is spoiled rotten and we're to blame for that."

"I don't see what the problem is."

"Oh, you don't? Do you even know what 'spoiled rotten' means?"

Vegeta looked at her steadily. "It means that in her entire life, she was never made to suffer and everything that she ever wanted or needed was provided for her."

Bulma shook her head slowly, still working on the food in front of her. "I know that sounds nice and that it's very important to you that this be true, but there are setbacks to never experiencing hardships."

"Whatever they may be, it wouldn't be as bad as the alternative. I assure you. And what about you? Weren't you born with a silver spoon in your mouth?"

"I was and I was certainly a bratty little girl. Believe it or not, Vegeta, being with you made me a better person in some ways. It opened my eyes to a world beyond my own. Understanding you and all that you stand for—I was in uncharted territories. That's what I like most about you."

Vegeta had nothing to say to this, Bulma knew, as he was not used to compliments of this kind and that hadn't changed, but he gazed at her with unfathomable eyes. He was probably waiting for her to get to her point.

"Those are all things that Bra was never exposed to, making her own knowledge and understanding quite limited."

"The things that I've seen or done shouldn't be things that one aspires to emulating, if that's what you're getting at. It does nothing for you."

"I know what you're saying, but there has to be a balance. That's something that we may have failed at showing to Bra. I've talked to her quite a bit on the many times she's either broken up with someone or she was dumped countless times over. And I started to worry that maybe as she is things wouldn't work out for her."

"Maybe it's better that way," Vegeta said.

"You can't seriously mean that."

Vegeta gave her an unamused look that cemented his last statement.

"Well, she's an adult now—I guess it _would_ be a good idea to just let her find her own way. You said you wanted her to be happy, but she definitely hasn't been that in a long while and you know it. There's only one person I know who has managed to make her that way almost effortlessly." She twirled her fork in order to pick up more of the pasta.

Vegeta sighed. "I'll try to talk to the boy, but I doubt it would make any difference."

"That's all I ask, Vegeta."

"But only once more. I don't like including myself in such affairs. Bra has a mind of her own—she can choose for herself what she wants to do with her life."

"Turning a new leaf, I see. The way you used to scare off her boyfriends, I can hardly picture you saying all this."

"Yeah, well, the past couple years has been enlightening," he said standing up from the table. He'd long since finished his dinner. He'd stayed simply for her benefit. "Perhaps I'll meet you upstairs?" Vegeta questioned to the amused Bulma.

"Perhaps," she said with a grin.

Obviously annoyed with her answer as he frowned in response, she watched as he left and heard as he exited through the front door. She wondered briefly what he could be up to, but soon her mind drifted to other things, like the still unfinished contraption lying in the lab. More than that, however, she still had to analyze a certain little boy's DNA. It was a lot to look at and she did so in a slow, but steady manner. She wanted to make sure that Jensen truly was harmless.

* * *

 **Malachi wasn't tired yet after spending the entire day at the studio and going back and forth with Quint on what should go on the album.** It was a very productive day having gone through a total of five songs. He'd written quite a bit of songs and much to his surprise, Quint had approved of them or at the very least had not put up much of a fuss. One, which he knew would be on the album was about a young man who tried to escape poverty by attending private school but ended up being killed when he returned home. The part about him being killed, however, was changed to simply facing a bit of trouble in his hometown which was far more accessible and less dramatic in part because, at least for that song, _he_ was that boy; a first-person narrative. It was also easier to pen words to. After he was done recording that particular song, he was convinced that this would be his first single of the yet unfinished album. It's subject and tone was completely different from what he was known for—he wanted that to set the pace.

Not that there wouldn't be any trace of love on this album, but it would take a backseat. He only hoped it would go over well with his fans. He knew he couldn't simply do the same things he'd done on his last two albums which were unique in their own way, but also similar as well constituting a certain style that had become his own. He didn't _want_ to do the same thing as well—he was excited about stepping into unknown territories. He was willing to take those risks. As Quint had told him about fans in general, "they want something different, but not too different". Likewise, Malachi didn't feel as if he was actually stepping out of his comfort zone, but rather showing a different side of himself.

He'd also finished writing the song and melody that he planned to do with Marron and had already sent her the lyrics. He expected her to complain about it sounding sappy and soft which was her way. Marron didn't strike him as one who was overly emotional. He'd essentially written a love poem between two people—who he had unintentionally made non-gender specific as it was written in first-person—who were deeply in love with one another, basking in the other's affections to the point that it seemed as if it was impossible to ever be otherwise. Should that love ever change, then "my life ain't worth living, if I can't be with you". That wasn't the central point of the song, however, but it was there nonetheless to illustrate just how much they had invested in one another. They needed each other simply because they loved each other and that couldn't change because they were too deeply committed to one another.

Marron had at first sent him a one-word text: "Beautiful". Then another later on saying that she could hardly imagine herself singing that to him without turning into a pile of melted butter. He explained to her through many back and forth texts that it was just a song, like many others, and that it only had as much meaning and influence over her as she let it. He took it as a compliment, however, when she admitted that it sounded far less cheesy than she was expecting and, as a result, much harder to separate herself from it.

Malachi was sure they had nothing to worry about as far as anything resembling more than a friendship between them as a result. Actual love required more than just a few sweet words to be established and Malachi was quite certain that he was far too damaged emotionally to ever commit to another relationship. In music, he could feel all those emotions again and let them come out in song, but once it all ended, they faded away and he was just himself again.

He sat up a little in bed to take the pills which had been prescribed to him. At first, he'd hesitated to take them, but on the very first night, they proved quite effective. He could sleep for the entire night without waking and when he did wake up and go about his day, he felt exceptionally content with his life. No longer did he struggle with darkening thoughts or become sidetracked by sharp, metal objects. He'd even started cooking again and that alone boosted his own personal morale. Doing the things that he liked to do, returning to a productive, normal life was exactly what he needed. He felt convinced that were it not for those pills, he'd not be feeling even half as good as he felt now.

He could think clearly for the first time and contemplate how things had gone so badly with Bra. He spoke to Pan almost every night sorting through such thoughts and often apologizing for saddling her so heavily with his own issues. Yet she seemed all too willing to hear him out—she _wanted_ to hear him out. He felt that he could tell her anything, even his most private of thoughts without fear of judgement. He told her about the guilt he felt for having to rely on medication for something that he should be able to manage on his own. He told her his worry about _not_ feeling some small measure of sadness over what had happened. Was it okay to move on when he hadn't actually spoken to Bra to sort out anything? He spoke to her as well about his growing need to see Machi again, but his longstanding fear of asking Bra if he could. Should he bring lawyers into the mix if things didn't work out the way he wanted? Pan always seemed to have good advice that Malachi always listened intently to. Whenever she spoke, he listened because he trusted her wisdom which she seemed to have in abundance.

In return, Malachi listened to Pan whenever she decided to volunteer some issues of her own mostly about her love life. Pan, for all her wisdom and confidence, constantly put herself down for not finding anyone for herself. She was afraid that there was no one out there for her and that she would forever be alone. She was also tired of her mother trying to hook her up with someone without her permission. Her mother was a stubborn woman who thought she knew what was best for Pan—it was difficult to explain to her that she'd rather be alone than in a relationship she couldn't stomach. All Malachi could do was reassure her that there was nothing wrong with her, that it was admirable that she wasn't compromising on her standards simply because most people didn't understand. He complimented her as much as he could because it seemed as if she needed to hear that from someone other than herself. She was valid just like everyone else and she should never feel as if she had to do something she felt uncomfortable with doing in order to appease the next person.

Malachi didn't think he was nearly as good as Pan when it came to giving sound advice, but he did the best he could for her. That night, he hadn't called her and he hadn't received any calls as well. Jensen had already been put to bed and Malachi had just taken his nighttime medicine designed to make him fall asleep. He could already feel the effects. The restlessness was slowly subsiding even as he stared up at the dark ceiling. Tomorrow would be another long day of recording, but he was looking forward to it. Marron would also be dropping by so that they could finally record the duet. Malachi was determined to have this particular song on the album.

* * *

 **Bra woke up with a start, drenched in sweat.** Immediately, her hand came to her stomach and began moving it rhythmically in a circle. Had she felt a kick? She couldn't be sure as she felt nothing occur afterwards as her erratic breathing began to even out. She'd been dreaming again and it was one that she'd been having for a while now about Malachi. In this dream, she would walk into a room filled with darkly clad, indistinguishable men with the word "PARAMEDIC" printed brightly on their backs. They never had any faces and they all stood eerily still, all turned to a bed that looked exactly like hers. On that bed, she'd find Malachi lying there on his back peacefully with his arms folded upon his chest and his eyes closed as if he was merely asleep. That was when a sense of dread would begin to creep in. Slowly, very slowly, she'd reach her hand out to him and he'd feel cold to the touch prompting her to draw back her hand quickly in shock. She'd start calling out his name and shaking him, but he wouldn't budge. Always, she would turn to the faceless men and demand that they do something, yelling and screaming at the top of her lungs. They'd always say the same thing: "It's too late. It's too late. Cardiac arrest. He was dead hours ago. He died in his sleep." They would keep repeating these phrases mournfully until it became like a mantra and she was struggling to wake up to the real world again where all was well, at least in that Malachi was still alive and well.

She didn't need this kind of stress, not with a child on the way. She couldn't figure out why she kept having this dream and why she was having it more and more frequently. Was it her guilt building up? Or was this just a result of her increased hormones? Why was it cardiac arrest? Malachi was perfectly healthy, he certainly didn't have to worry about heart problems. As much as she tried to logic herself out of her fear, it remained, thwarting every attempt at falling asleep.

She needed to hear his voice again. That was the only thing that would quell her spiraling thoughts. It had been too long since they'd spoken to each other and despite herself, she was worried about him. How was he doing? She was almost afraid to ask. She didn't want to hear that he was doing terribly, knowing that it would only feed her guilt. She hated feeling guilty. She hated feeling responsible for someone else's pain. Was he angry at her? Would he point his finger at her and denounce her completely?

She tried to close her eyes to no avail until she grabbed her phone off the nearby nightstand and flicked to her frequent callers list to find Malachi's name. She had a picture of him beside his name smiling carefreely—a rare sight considering how calculated he was on a regular basis. She remembered that day which she'd taken that picture. He'd been happier than usual that day, playfully singing and dancing down the main spiraling stairs of the house, sweeping Jensen up in his jovial mood, embarrassing her father while making her mother laugh, as well as bringing a delighted smile to her grandparents' faces. Machi couldn't get enough of it as he eventually had her in his arms. He slid and twirled everywhere far too dramatically and sang songs that didn't quite fit the occasion. She wondered what had gotten into him, but it seemed it was nothing in particular. That day, he had simply been happy. "Everything is so perfect right now," he would say, "and that just donned on me this morning." She'd demanded to take a picture of him to capture the vibrancy he seemed to be exuding that day. Now that picture stared back at her, reminding her of what was lost. With an exasperated sigh, she finally pressed on his name and the phone began ringing.

Malachi always had his phone on him. He was more likely to answer than to miss it altogether. Even at night, he'd place it just under his pillow near his ear much to her annoyance. It was pretty much attached to him. She was not used to that sort of thing, but it did make him refreshingly easy to get in contact with. It was 1 AM in the morning as she sat and waited for that moment in which she'd hear his voice. She debated whether she should hang up right after. This was so short notice and out-of-the-blue, would it be wise to carry on a conversation under such circumstances? Would she be satisfied with just that, however, after his long absence and her intense dreams?

"Hello?" came a scratchy, rough version of Malachi's voice.

It sent shivers down her spine. That was him. He was alive. She couldn't convince herself to end the call, however. He clearly hadn't bothered with looking at the caller ID. "It's me. Bra," she said in a frank tone. She could hear him yawning on the other end and sheets ruffling.

"What?" he asked groggily.

"Bra, your…well, whatever I am to you."

"Bra?" he repeated in the same scratchy voice. It didn't seem as if he was understanding her at all.

"Did I wake you?" she asked instead.

"Almost…I guess not…" he answered though it was a bit more difficult to hear as the words became less distinctive.

She could hear him yawning again. "I just wanted to hear your voice. How are you doing?"

"…I'm fine," he said with a heavy sigh.

Bra wasn't sure if he was actually quite sad or just tired and she wondered what she should say next. "Um…Malachi…" she began uncertainly, but then stopped when she heard what sounded like he was fully asleep. All she could hear was his breathing, deeper now as he slept. For longer than she liked to admit, she listened to him inhale and exhale easily with no discernible obstruction or issue. Then she promptly ended the call.

Even that small snippet of vaguely coherent conversation was enough to set her at ease and bring a subtle smile to her face. She wished there could be more. The desire to have him laying in bed right beside her had never been so strong as it felt then. Tomorrow, she decided she'd stop dragging her feet on the issue and call him. This was ridiculous. She was Bra Briefs and she was never too scared to face her problems head-on.

Her hand idly remained on her stomach as she finally closed her eyes again. _Tomorrow, tomorrow._

* * *

 **Quint dressed sharply in his dark suits and made sure they were clean and pressed each and every day.** He'd wear his flat cap to cover up his balding hair and he believed it added sophistication and he was nothing if not sophisticated.

He arrived early at the recording studio before almost everyone. Of course, Malachi wouldn't be there in his ongoing need to prove his "independence". At times, the boy was nothing more than a rebellious teen. He'd been far better as a child professionally, in Quint's opinion. He was punctual, courteous, and never questioned him. Malachi was an entirely different story now. Casually defiant, outspoken, and never on-time, at least when it came to recording.

The boy was creative, he had to give him that. He fearlessly looked towards the future, excited about the prospects of change. Most wouldn't be that way in his shoes. In fact, most would not have made it this far in the music industry even more so for him who had started out as a child. There had always been the looming threat of his voice changing as he began to mature, but he was never concerned about that. Quint, however, tried to preserve his childlike qualities for as long as possible until it became obvious that he was no longer a prepubescent boy. "If my voice changes, then it changes," Malachi would say with a nonchalant shrug.

When the time came, Malachi was more than ready for it. He was looking forward to it. His once loud, sometimes uncontrolled voice of barely contained joy became far more distinct and sharp, one which could not only convey joy but a whole range of emotion with precise control. It had been a beautiful transition despite some hiccups along the way namely hoarseness and unpredictably cracking voice and people took to him quickly. Since then, it had been a rollercoaster. His modest popularity now soared in his newfound maturity and his willingness to expose himself emotionally for all to see.

Malachi understood music and he'd proven this to him now as Quint allowed him more and more freedom in the process of making an album. He had a thorough, formal knowledge of music and had the ability to write music if he so chose. Already, he'd come to him with several finished songs complete with their own melody and they'd gone with it. Quint would add his own twist to jazz things up and they would have a decent, sometimes wonderful song on their hands. This was easier, he had to admit. Instead of doing _everything_ , he was simply there to improve and finalize what was already there.

Quint hadn't been looking forward to today, but he was certainly looking forward to getting it over with. They'd finally record the duet that Malachi wouldn't stop mentioning. It had taken him a couple days to iron out the words and pace. Quint had spiced up the instruments and arrangement as was his specialty and soon they had a finished music sheet for everyone to study and practice. Malachi promised that Marron would know exactly what to do by the time they were going to record it.

Malachi came in an hour late that day, but that came as no surprise so much so that the rest of the crew started to do the same thing instead of waiting around staring at each other. He apologized this time, saying that he'd honestly wanted to show up on time, but that he'd accidently slept through the alarm. At the very least, Quint was glad to hear that he was actually getting rest at night. He looked refreshed that day. He'd seen the dermatologist at some point as well, he could tell. He appeared even more vibrant and youthful than usual, gone was his look of weariness. Now all Malachi had to work on was his physique which he hoped he was already doing.

Marron seemingly taking a page out of Malachi's book came an hour after Malachi arrived. They'd been working on other songs, but Malachi quickly brought all that to a stop once he saw Marron strolling in. Malachi had been closemouthed on who this woman was aside from her being a friend—the boy had no friends so it became clear to Quint that he was lying. More than likely, she was his new, gold-digging girlfriend who was using him to advance her own career. Malachi insisted that there was nothing going on between them and that she had no interest in pursuing a music career, but Malachi was notoriously bad at judging character.

Marron dressed unremarkably with eye-searing pastel colors even though they were completely out of season. She wore her messy blonde hair in a bun. Despite all this, there was an alluring quality to her—she possessed comely facial features and a slender shape. Her cloudy blue eyes were intelligent and she spoke frankly. She seemed well-acquainted with Malachi much to Quint's annoyance. He knew it would be helpful in the eventual recording of the song. The more comfortable they felt around each other, the easier it would be to record something organic and sincere.

"Alright, you two, let's do a practice run," Quint said before they stepped into the booth.

Marron was a bit nervous as she looked to Malachi often for guidance who seemed to be almost constantly smiling or on the verge of it.

"I like that idea," Marron said quickly before Malachi could respond.

"Alright, then," Malachi agreed, "Let's practice until we get it right."

Malachi was a perfectionist when it came to these sorts of things. Even without saying it, Quint knew they would be there for a while trying to get everything just right. It was a good thing that Malachi trusted his judgement or else they'd never get anything done in a timely manner. Quint waited for the two to situate themselves in the booth. It was a soundproof room which isolated their voices from all other noises. Quint had to remind the blonde girl to leave her phone outside of it to avoid costly interruptions. Malachi typically left his phone in Quint's care during such times otherwise he'd be answering calls all day as opposed to doing actual recording.

Without music, Quint wanted to hear how the two sounded on this song so the two eventually began. Malachi began first in a crisp, sweet tone:

 _Each time the wind blows  
I hear your voice so  
I call your name  
Whispers at morning  
Our love is dawning  
Heaven's glad you came  
You know how I feel  
This thing can't go wrong  
I'm so proud to say  
I love you  
Your love's got me high  
I long to get by  
This time is forever  
Love is the answer_

He smiled as he sang into the mic that they shared and Marron waited patiently with a subtle smile for her part to begin. Malachi had written the song in a way that flowed smoothly into her verse without a pause in-between. Marron paused for a second too long after Malachi's last notes, but he encouraged her with a smile even as she fumbled over the timing. Her voice was fuller in comparison to his, but it was smooth and buttery, filled with a sense of wonderment:

 _I hear your voice now  
You are my choice now  
The love you bring  
Heaven's in my heart  
At your call  
I hear harps  
And angels sing  
You know how I feel  
This thing can't go wrong  
I can't live my life  
Without you_

The song continued in full force as they tackled the second verse along with the bridge and then the hook a few times. It was good, Quint realized, after he had them sing it again. Their voices worked well together. He closed his eyes and listened closely to it. At some points during the song, the two alternated lines one after the other as if having a conversation and that was when their voices began to blend and meld as their distinct tones became one and difficult to tell apart.

This was something that the album needed. A soft, vulnerable love song to remind the audience who he was and add in some much-needed familiarity. Now done as a duet, it was different from anything Malachi had ever come out with. Until now, he'd not shared a song with or collaborated with any other singers in his music—he didn't need to, in Quint's opinion. His personality and style was so robust that it didn't require the presence of anyone else. Despite how good this song sounded to Quint's ears, he also noticed Malachi's personality was softened and dulled to accommodate Marron. It worked here, but it left a bad taste in his mouth.

Malachi's cellphone began to ring and vibrate much to Quint's annoyance. Usually, he'd wave his hand to get Malachi's attention—he insisted that he take any call that came through, but this time Quint decided against doing this when he read the caller ID: Bra. He did not need to speak to that woman—he needed to focus on his music, put his full attention and being into it. Bra would be a clear distraction and likely sabotage the rest of the day. There were high standards that Malachi had to reach each and every day and she was a detriment to this. Quint silenced the phone as the two in the booth continued on without interruption.

"Okay, you two, that was excellent. Now I need you to take it from the top one last time," Quint said speaking to them through the sound system in the booth.

"We're ready any time you are," Marron said proudly.

She'd caught her stride, it seemed and she was exuberant where she'd been shy before. She was commandeering the ship and Malachi was simply along for the ride. Quint wanted his boy to speak up more, but he was content where he sat and allowed her plenty of leeway. He shook his head in annoyance but soon started the music over again. At the very least, Quint got to hear Malachi's crystalline voice up close and personal even if it was singing the same song for the umpteenth time—it sounded no less crisp or precise. It did wonders on his mounting stress even as Malachi's phone rang again over and over. _Geez, woman, find another hobby,_ Quint thought as "Bra" showed up on the screen in bright resolution.

Eventually, after a while, they were able to produce a finished product which they all listened to in full. It was clearly the highlight of Malachi's day as he couldn't stop praising Marron. Of course, it didn't stop there. The commandeering blonde woman couldn't simply leave it at that. Quint was hoping that after this was said and done, he wouldn't have to deal with her at the studio, but that was not to be.

"I want to write a song for you," Marron declared to Malachi after they finished listening to the freshly recorded piece.

Malachi was overjoyed by the prospects. "Really? What brought this on all of a sudden?"

"Just today. Doing this whole thing with you. I kind of got an idea that came to me and I want you to be the one who sings it."

"A completely, original song written by Marron? I like the sound of that," Malachi said with a grin.

"I don't," Quint said drawing them both out of their own private wonderland. He needed to bring Malachi back to reality. "Do you even know how to compose a proper song? Write it all out on paper so that everyone can understand what you're trying to convey?"

Marron looked at the other with a frown. "Well, no, but I'm pretty sure I can explain myself well—I'll let all you professionals write it down in the right format."

"That's alright," Malachi said in calming tones, "Coming up with something is the hard part—the rest is just a matter of rhetoric."

"That can get really difficult on certain kinds of songs." Quint warned.

Malachi looked at him with a grin, "Don't worry about it—I'll take care of it. I'll make sure everything's up to your standards. Then I want your honest opinion on it when it's all said and done."

"Thank you, Malachi," Marron said with a quick nod. "I don't plan on making this a habit, by the way. This is a one-shot deal. I don't even particularly care if you like it or not. I just want you to sing it for me at least once."

"Whatever it is, I'm sure I'll like it," Malachi said with far too much confidence.

Quint had a sinking feeling that Malachi would push to have this one as well end up on the album. Malachi was often ruled by his emotions which was something that served him well when it came to music, but he wondered if it would also be his downfall. This wasn't a game. This was their livelihood he was casually making decisions about.

"I'll be the judge of that," Quint said, "We're actually here to make some _good_ music, not cater to your friend."

"All we can do is our best. You know as well as I do, that no one can definitively tell if a song will do well on the charts. So we just have to do what feels right," Malachi said, "The last thing I want to do is overcalculate things."

Although "calculating" was practically Malachi's middle name, there were times like these when Quint wanted to throw his hands up in defeat. His moods shifted with the time of day sometimes and Quint knew that his focus could easily be compromised. He couldn't do anything about it right now—he just had to let things ride its course. At the very least, Malachi's phone had stopped ringing and Quint made sure not to draw attention to it so that he wouldn't notice all the missed calls.

"So what's this song about," Quint asked attempting to be conversational.

"It'll be different from anything else on the album from what I can tell," Marron began slowly.

"Well, that's exactly what I'm going for—different," Malachi said, forever finding ways to compliment or encourage the other.

"I know we just did another love song, but it was a little different from the others I've heard. I wondered if I could get you to sing about something with a bit more substance. Is that…something you'd be interested in?"

"Of course," Malachi said with little hesitation, "I've always wanted to branch out eventually to different subjects."

"Well then, let this be the album where you do that—if you want. I don't know if it'll be good enough to even use, but, you know, I'll try. I know what it'll be about, but I just got to get the words together."

"Well, it's no rush," Malachi said with a smile, "No rush at all. And I look forward to it."

Quint looked forward to being done with this woman's intrusion. They already had plenty of other professionally made songs to peruse over. He'd let her have her way for now, but _he_ had the final say-so as to what was going on the album and he had no doubt that he'd eventually get Malachi to see things his way. He'd known Malachi for a long time so he knew the ways in which to manipulate him even as an adult.

* * *

 **Bra was ill-tempered stepping into work that day. Malachi had deliberately ignored her.** She knew this had to be the case because he was never without his phone even if he was in the middle of recording. On the tenth attempt, she'd nearly crushed the phone in her hands. She stopped herself only because she didn't feel like going out to buy a new phone.

She was working with Ms. Grant again because she still had much more to show her about data analysis. Bra liked that the woman was quite competent, but her exhaustive explanations were beginning to drive her up the wall. That was when she began to feel uncanny wetness in her underwear located near her private opening. Feeling a bit wet wasn't anything new to Bra during pregnancy, but this was excessive. With a start, she excused herself to the bathroom passing by her boss, Mr. Tyga, along the way. He seemed to be working with one of the newly hired IT techs. Two more new faces had been added to their team as CC continued to expand bringing them more and more work for their department to handle.

In the bathroom, she checked herself and noticed quite a few droplets of blood along with the usual wetness. "No," Bra said to herself as she began to panic. She'd never seen this before not during her last pregnancy.

She quickly gathered herself and left the bathroom with long, hurried strides. The bathroom never seemed so far away from the lab as it did then. She'd decided to go to the doctor right then and there—she wanted the issue fixed immediately and she would not be waiting to do so. Conveniently, her boss had been there that day and he was quite understanding of her leaving abruptly if it had something to do with her pregnancy. Yet when she made it back, he was no longer there.

"Where's Mr. Tyga?" Bra asked to no one in particular. She was in no mood to be asking people individually. She just wanted to make sure he knew and then leave as soon as possible.

"Said he was off to the next building over," the woman closest to her said; Margaret. "He'll be back in a few, if you wanted to speak with him."

Bra sighed exasperatedly. "Thank you," she said quickly as she turned on her heel and went in pursuit of the often hard to find man.

She'd neglected to tell Ms. Grant that she was leaving, but the woman would find out soon enough. Her needs took precedence. Bra walked a little faster and then began lightly jogging as she took the stairs down to the first floor. She found his tall form moving towards the exit doors and she called out his name before he left the building. Dizziness began to set in as she watched him moving towards her now with a quickened pace. She found herself unsure of whether she should take another step as the world began to shift around her.

"Ms. Briefs, what's wrong? You don't look well," he said in his usual plain tone.

She made a decision in that moment as she looked at the other. "Take me to the hospital," she demanded. "I think something's wrong. I don't want to wait for an ambulance." She took a step forward and found herself losing her balance. Before she hit the ground, however, she was caught in his arms.

"You appear to have a high fever," he said as he pressed the back of his hand against her forehead.

"Sorry," Bra said as she tried to stand up straighter, but she found she was far too unsteady to move much further.

She felt herself lifted up easily in his arms and then moving steadily towards the exit. His gait was hurried now. "Don't apologize, I'll take you to the hospital as quickly as I can."

"Thank you," Bra said. "Please hurry."

After they went past the sliding doors, Bra heard an extra set of feet running behind them. She couldn't tell who that was until she was placed in his car. He set her down carefully into the passenger seat and then made haste to the driver's side. Bra looked back as she saw Astor climb into the backseat. Mr. Tyga backed out of the parking lot quickly and drove at moderately fast speeds down the road.

"We'll be there shortly," he said as his eyes stayed glued to the road.

That was all he said in way of comforting her—it did little to calm her nerves. She wished Malachi was there instead reassuring her. Knowing him, he'd probably already done extensive research on the complications one might face when pregnant and have some sort of plan laid out. But he was nowhere to be found. She wondered if he even still thought of her or if he had simply moved on. It had been over a month now since their breakup. She bent over a little as a subtle pain in her abdomen began to bother her. It felt exactly like the cramps she might begin to feel during her cycle, but that couldn't be right. She closed her eyes trying to block out the dizziness that she was feeling. What was happening to her?

She looked up when she felt small hands on her shoulders from behind; she glanced back at the girl who now wore a concerned expression—it was a far cry from her usual teasing nature.

"It'll be alright," Astor said in gentle tones. "By and by, everything will eventually work itself out."

Bra glanced over at Mr. Tyga as she said this, but he seemed to have no reaction at all. "How do you know? Anything could happen. I really hope this is all just a false alarm, but…"

"It always works out even if it's not in the way that we want," Astor said in the same gentle tone. "We deal with the consequences, whatever they may be, and we move on as best we can."

"You make it sound so simple," Bra said.

"It is," Astor said with a nod. "I wouldn't waste my time on being afraid or stressed. As long as you're doing all you can, there's nothing else you can do."

"You're pretty insightful for a little girl."

"I'm not a little girl," she said back with a grin.

There had been no haughtiness in her tone. She'd not been trying to prove anything nor did she try to back up her last statement. She simply left it at that.

"West City has some of the best medical facilities in the world along with all the cutting-edge technology thanks to CC—if anyone can help you, they can," Astor continued confidently.

Bra was glad she was there as she slowly began to calm herself. Astor was right—she'd be in good hands. They made it to the hospital in less than ten minutes and soon Bra was in his arms again as he rushed towards the entrance.

"We need some help over here—it's an emergency!" Astor called out loudly, "She's pregnant and feverous. Please help!"

That was all it took for the nurses on staff to leap into action. A bed was rolled out and Bra was placed on this as a nurse began to scan for her vitals. She was being rolled away quickly, but she called for Astor to stay with her—Bra didn't want to be at the hospital by herself under such circumstances. Though she knew little about the girl, she was better than nothing. She'd left her phone at work as she'd not expected to leave so abruptly.

Bra went through a couple double doors and then down the hall to a larger room. Astor stayed by her side as she waited for the specialist to come and see her; she placed a hand on her shoulder once again in concern. Mr. Tyga was there as well though he hadn't said a word and he stood a ways from her.

"Astor, do you think…?" Bra began.

"I don't want to assume anything," she said. "It could be nothing at all."

The OB-GYN on staff eventually came to see her after a few minutes. The woman had an E-pad in her hand as she came to her side. "I've looked at your vitals and they are quite concerning. Let's just check and see how the baby is doing," the doctor said as she stepped over to the nearby wall to tap a groove in the wall. A screen appeared on the wall in response.

The doctor took a small scanning device out of her pocket and then promptly hovered it over her stomach. Bra looked at the screen intently now as it showed her baby, small and almost alien-like in appearance. The room was quiet as they all seemed to be looking and waiting, but only the doctor knew what to be looking for. Bra watched as the doctor glanced down at her own personal screen and slowly shook her head.

"Bra Briefs, is it?" the doctor asked.

"Yes," Bra said with a nod.

"I'm Dr. Withers, the obstetrician on staff today."

Bra could only nod at the woman.

"Are you sure you're on your second trimester?" Dr. Withers asked.

"Yeah, I'm sure. My doctor confirmed when my pregnancy began."

"Well, from what I can tell, you look much farther along than that. Do you already know the gender?"

"No, and I don't want to know," Bra said quickly.

She was becoming more and more impatient the longer the woman continued to examine things. Bra watched the doctor look from the screen to her pad countless times. The doctor's neutral expression became concerned after a while. Bra didn't like the look on the woman's face. Astor's grip on her shoulder tightened as she must have noticed this as well. Soon, the device was turned off and the screen became blank once again.

"I'm very sorry to say that I can detect no heartbeats from your baby."

"What—what are you saying?" Bra said as tears sprang to her eyes unbidden. "What are you _saying_?"

"Ms. Briefs, I'm so very, very sorry, but your baby is no long alive—your baby has passed away."

"No…no," Bra said shaking her head, "No—this can't be. There's something wrong with your device—there's something _wrong_! Do you know who I am?" Bra began as her voice became louder and louder. She felt Astor's grip strengthening and she turned to look at the girl angrily, "Do you know who I am? _What_ I am? This is impossible!" She looked at the doctor again who's expression had become pained. "Your devices are wrong! Check again. Please check again."

"Alright," Dr. Withers said giving into her.

She stepped over closer and moved her scanner over her protruding stomach. This time it took longer and Bra watched as the doctor paid closer attention to her E-Pad. Her expression never changed, however. After a long minute, Dr. Withers was looking at her again.

"Even in this day of age, things like this can happen," the doctor offered in sympathetic tones, "If you tell me your OB-GYN, I can bring that person in to give you a fuller picture of what's happened. But, right now, you do appear healthy. Are these people your family?" she asked indicating the two of them.

"No," Bra said trying to keep her voice from wavering. Quiet tears had slid down her face without her permission, "They were just the closest at the time. Maybe," she began as she looked over at Mr. Tyga; his hands were clasped in front of him, gazing now at the ground in what seemed like despondency, "if I'd gotten here sooner…maybe something could have been done."

He looked up at her with unfathomable eyes. "My apologies."

"Is that _all_ you can say?" Bra said angrily, "My child just died because of you."

The subtlest look of shock seemed to cross his face. "I'm sorry, Ms. Briefs." His voice wavered as he uttered her name.

"That's enough," Astor said in a firm tone drawing Bra's attention back to her. "That's enough."

"Is there anyone you want me to call right now, Ms. Briefs?" Dr. Withers asked.

"I want Malachi here," Bra said quietly.

"Is that a family member?" Dr. Withers questioned.

"He might as well be—he's my ex, but he's also the father of my child. I don't know his number. I just want him here right now."

"Well…" Dr. Withers began uncertainly.

"I can arrange that," Mr. Tyga said much to Bra's surprise.

Before she could ask just how he planned on doing this, he made a quick departure from the room already taking out his phone.

"We'll discuss what your next steps should be when you've had some time to process things," Dr. Withers said in understanding tones, "And I'll speak with your OB-GYN on file."

Bra nodded to the woman and then watched her leave promptly. She was left with only Astor beside her and she'd taken her hand away.

"So, is this still 'things working out'?" Bra asked with a frown.

"Yes," Astor said, "Just not in the way that you want. I can't imagine how you must feel right now. I wish there was something I could do to change things."

"Please, Astor, you don't have to pretend like you care. It's over now. It's all over."

"What would ever make you think I'm pretending? I mean what I say. Even if you don't believe me, I do think all life is precious."

"Yet you made it your mission to get on my nerves every single day."

Astor grinned at this. "I thought you needed it. Maybe I was just jealous. May I?" she asked indicating her stomach.

"You may," Bra said despite herself.

She could hardly wrap her mind around what had happened in the last few minutes and now she was carrying a deceased underdeveloped child. The very thought made her feel nauseous. She watched as Astor placed her small hand on her stomach.

"Though your life was short, may you also find peace in the afterlife," she said solemnly.

"Was my child ever alive in the first place?" Bra asked to her.

"I think so. There was a beating heart, wasn't there? There were vitals. If one can die, then one must have been alive."

"But I didn't even know the gender."

"You could still find out."

"I don't want to."

"Then that's your choice."

Bra looked up when she heard incoming footsteps. It was Mr. Tyga.

"Malachi will be here very soon—he's knows it's urgent."

"Thank you—thank you very much," Bra said, unprepared for the confirmation. "How did you—"

"It's probably best that you didn't know," he interrupted her. "I'll remain here for a while. If you need me, I'll be right outside the door."

"Wait, you don't have to leave."

"I would prefer that I do," he said with an air of finality to his tone.

She didn't argue with the man as he stepped out of the room once again. She was glad that Astor was there because she was afraid of being left alone. She was in an odd place right now and she didn't want to admit that she felt utterly alone. Despite having a loving family who always supported her no matter what, it was as if she was stranded on a deserted island. Her mind began to think of all the things she'd done wrong. Maybe this was her punishment. Maybe this was her just dessert.

* * *

 **Malachi had just stepped out of the studio when Quint finally gave them a break for the day.** Marron had long since left, claiming she couldn't afford to stay at the studio all day. It was then that he noticed the ridiculous amount of missed calls on his phone and it was all by the same person: Bra. His eyes widened in shock. How had he missed these?

"Quint," Malachi said bitterly under his breath.

He began making his way back to the insufferable man when his phone began to ring. The caller ID read simply "Anonymous", but Malachi answered anyway as he couldn't bear to add to his missed calls list.

"Hello?"

"Is this Malachi?" a man's voice asked frankly.

"Yes, but who is this?"

"My name is Auden Tyga—Bra works under me at CC."

"Who? And Bra works at CC? Since when? Is this some kind of prank call?"

"I assure you—it is not. She left her phone at work as she left in a hurry to be taken to the ER. There were some…complications with her pregnancy—"

"So she _is_ pregnant."

"Yes, she is," Auden confirmed. "I'm calling because she asked for your presence at the hospital. I'll text you the address. Please make haste."

"Well, okay," Malachi said uncertainly. "How did you get this number?"

"That is a trifle matter all things considering. Have a good day."

The call ended and Malachi was left mystified. It was a lot of information all at once. He'd almost completely forgotten that she'd been stashing away pregnancy tests trying to figure out if she was pregnant once again, but he'd never gotten an affirmative answer on this. If it truly was the case that she had been going through all this once again by herself, he wondered why she hadn't told him. Why was this a secret? He shook his head with a sigh—it was too much to think about right now. At the very least, he had to go check out the validity of the man's statement.

As soon as he received the text from "Anonymous", he called the place and asked for Bra Briefs—they quickly confirmed that she was there and that she'd just arrived a few minutes ago. With this, Malachi sped off. He wasn't too far away, a little over twenty minutes. He almost climbed out of the car before he reminded himself that he was not at all in disguise and he could be inviting more trouble than he needed walking around so carefree. He opened his glove compartment and took out his emergency red face mask. It looked ridiculous and harmless, but best of all no one would be able to see his real face. Even if people pointed at him and laughed behind his back, it was much better than nothing.

He whipped on the silly mask and ran off for the entrance. He spoke to the administrators at the front revealing only to the lady speaking to him his face and an index finger to quiet down her surprise. He watched as she turned and indicated him to her coworkers in the back.

"Please," he said wearily, "I'm just here to see Bra Briefs. Could you tell me her room number?"

Yet it was as if he was speaking to a brick wall as they began to make more and more ado about him. There was one sensible person among them and she appeared to wield some authority over the other women.

"Room 120," the woman said, "You ladies will behave yourself and keep this under wraps for our guest." She looked at Malachi again. "It's not usually allowed to wear things obscuring one's face inside the building, but I'll let you be the exception. Now off you go."

The smiling women gave her a chiefly nod, but they all made sure to wave at him before he took off to the back. He found the room far in the back with a tall man standing beside the door as if to keep watch.

"Malachi," the man acknowledged him with a nod.

"You're Auden?" Malachi asked recognizing the man's voice immediately.

"I am," he said with a nod. "I'm glad you found the correct location."

Malachi's eyes travelled to the door and he shook his head slowly. "She's really in there, isn't she?" he said mostly to himself. "Are you absolutely sure she wants to see me right now?"

"She made that very clear."

"Okay," he said taking a deep breath. "Why are you standing out here?"

"I…didn't want to upset her further," he said.

"Well, alright," Malachi said taking a longer look at the tall man. He wasn't sure what to make of him.

When Malachi stepped in, his eyes quickly made out Bra lying on the large hospital cot and a young lady standing beside her.

"Oh, my god, Malachi," Bra said in astonishment. "You…I can't believe you…"

Malachi was already making his way across the room to her. Without even a word he bent down and embraced her. She reached up and did the same.

"I've missed you, Malachi. I've missed you so much."

"I'm here," he said finally. After a while he stood up straight again. "I had no idea you were pregnant," he said reaching out now to place his hand upon her stomach.

"I'm sorry," Bra said quietly.

"That's alright," he said, "I know now at least."

"No, I'm sorry, Malachi. The doctor says she can't find a heartbeat. Our baby is dead."

Malachi looked at her blankly as her words did not seem to process very quickly. His hand which had been placed upon her stomach stilled. "H-How…"

Bra shook her head, "I don't know. The doctor's trying to figure it out."

"I can't believe this," Malachi said slowly, his motor skills working again somewhat.

His hands now gripped the bed support as he began to feel sick. He couldn't grasp any meaning from what was happening. Everything seemed so meaningless in that moment. Any sense of joy he'd been feeling after finding out that she was with child again was snatched away at a moment's notice not even allowing him a chance to relish in that feeling. It was like she'd never been pregnant in the first place, but he knew logically that this couldn't be right.

"Malachi?" he heard Bra's voice ask in the far-off distance. "Malachi?"

"Give him some time," the girl he'd seen before said to Bra.

What had he been doing all this time as she went through this all alone? He could have called her. He should have called her. Even if she'd told him not to, he could have at least tried. Instead, he wallowed in his self-pity when she needed him the most. He wished he had known. He wished he could have done at least one thing different. Maybe if he had supported her more, this would not have happened in the first place. Slowly, as his apparent sickness passed, he looked to her again finally pulling his eyes away from the unmoving child. Her expression was sorrowful and he hated seeing her that way.

"I should have been there," he said to her.

"No, Malachi—" Before she could speak further, he placed a quieting finger over her mouth.

"I'm sorry. Please just accept my apology," he said to her.

Bra looked at him with tight lips clearly dissatisfied by this. "I don't want you to do that. You have nothing to apologize for. I didn't want you here for all that. I just want you beside me again. I don't think I can do this alone."

"Then I won't let that happen. I promise."

"Good."

Malachi sat down on the side of the bed as close to her as possible and he gazed down at her, running a gentle hand down the side of her face. She smiled at him which in turn drew one from him. Then he proceeded to run his hand through her hair ever so delicately. He knew that she liked this sort of thing. She liked being touched, she drew a great deal of comfort from tactile sensations no matter how idle the motions.

It wasn't long before a doctor came into the room. Bra seemed to already know the women.

"So you must be Malachi," the woman said, "Hi, I'm Dr. Withers. Now, Bra, I've talked extensively with your OB-GYN and we've not been able to come up with an explanation to what's happened. I do believe, however, that stress might have been the culprit—certain levels in your vitals suggest that this might be something that's affecting you in a big way. Other than that, you're perfectly healthy perhaps more so than most people. There's no easy way to say this, but there are some steps that need to be taken now that we've determined the condition of your baby. The baby's too far along now to simply allow the body to take care of it. You must expel the child either naturally or inducing labor. It is completely up to you."

Malachi who'd been looking at the doctor now turned his eyes back to Bra. She looked at him with questioningly, wanting guidance in some way. He was hardly the one to ask about such things.

"Labor isn't an easy thing to do," Malachi said, "And I'm not the one who has to do it—so it's entirely up to you."

"I don't think I could stand even a few minutes walking around with this baby inside of me," Bra said. "I just want to get this over with. I don't want to wait."

"Okay," Dr. Withers said with understanding in her voice. "Then let us get started."

Malachi closed his eyes when his mind recalled what Lilith had to go through; the same strange sickness from before began to rear up. Maybe this _was_ his fault. His own DNA could be too damaged and twisted now to ever have a normal birth. Just like Lilith, it was all happening too soon. And just like Lilith… _Please, no…_ His eyes widened in panic. He couldn't let this happen again. He looked to Bra now who must have caught on to his worry.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"Nothing," he said, "I just need to make a few calls. I'll be right back. I promise."

After the doctor hooked her up to an IV that would be pumping oxytocin slowly into her bloodstream, Malachi left in a hurry so that he could contact Pan. He was forced to leave a voicemail, but he was sure she'd get back to him soon enough.

"Pan—I need your help. Do you have a sensu bean on you? It's very important that Bra has access to it soon. I'll explain everything later—I just really need you to bring it or tell me where I can find one or if you can't leave work, I'll come to you. Just let me know soon."

He ended the call and then took a deep breath. He glanced over at the blond man wondering if he had heard, not that it really mattered. They said little to one another as he passed by the self-imposed sentinel and came back to Bra's side.

"Do you want me to leave?" the girl asked.

"Could you stay longer?" Bra returned.

She nodded. "Okay. I'll stay as long as you need."

"Oh and this is Malachi—Malachi, this is Astor."

Malachi turned to the violet haired girl. She seemed quite well spoken for someone who appeared so young.

" _The_ Malachi?" Astor asked, "This whole time I've been trying to convince myself that I was just seeing things. Wow, fancy meeting you here of all places."

"Well," Malachi began with as much of a grin as he could muster, "I can't be on a stage all the time."

"Very true."

Astor moved around the bed so that she could stand in front of him. She reached out a hand expecting him to shake it. Amused, Malachi shook it firmly.

"Nice to meet you, Malachi," she said with a subtle smile.

"Likewise."

"I'm glad you could make it," Astor said, "I know all this must be a lot to take in all at once."

"Yeah," he said both confused and surprised with the words coming out of her mouth. She reminded him of Jensen and it was oddly comforting. "But, better late than never." His attentions returned to Bra who'd been watching their exchange. "Do you feel any pain?"

"No," she said shaking her head. "Not anymore. I hope this doesn't take too much longer."

It could take as long as it wanted as far as Malachi was concerned. His mind kept returning to Lilith and the mess her entire labor had been. He looked at it now with different eyes and he was utterly horrified at the memories. Her cries of pain, the massive amount of blood that had flowed from her, her worn body after it was all said and done, the odd reddened piece of flesh that squeezed through the cervix—it all caused him to close his eyes in disgust. He felt Bra's hand squeeze his hand a little perhaps to draw his attention. He found Bra's eyes again.

He had to be strong. He had to be encouraging for her sake even if he felt like the exact opposite. "It'll be alright. I'll be right beside you for however long it takes."


	58. Grip Tightens

**Malachi had eventually found a seat in which to occupy as time began to roll by.** He had become distracted by his phone once again. So did Astor for that matter. Bra, however, could not follow in suit. He remembered that she'd left her phone elsewhere. He wondered if there was time enough to go retrieve the device, if it even really mattered. She seemed otherwise content. If she did feel any discomfort, she did a good job at concealing it. Bra looked over at him as she'd caught him looking. She wore a subtle smile.

"Glad you missed out on all that super exciting labor last time? I was here for hours."

Malachi studied her face to make sure she was being completely serious. "No," he said though managing to keep his tone even for her sake. "I don't think I would have minded at all."

"Oh…" Bra said as if he'd given an unexpected answer. She was quiet as she looked away for a moment. "Well, I'm bored," she said with a sigh. "Medicine doesn't work as well on me as it does for others."

"You think we should let the doctor know?" Malachi asked.

Bra shook her head. "Better not. It would raise more questions than answers. It'll just take longer," she said. She sat up a little in her bed. "Aren't you supposed to be an entertainer?" she asked with a playful note to her voice. "Save me from my boredom."

"Oh yeah, I have a few dance numbers," he said humoring her though he had no intentions of doing anything of the sort.

"Really—I want to see," Bra said, showing real interest at the prospects.

Malachi snorted, "You'd have to pay me."

"Seriously, Malachi?" Bra said as if he'd just crushed her dreams.

"Seriously, Bra," he replied but in a less than enthused tone. "I'm not exactly in the mood—sorry."

Malachi noticed Astor had momentarily looked up from her phone with interest before returning to it probably after realizing that nothing would be happening.

"Some entertainer you are," Bra said sitting back onto her bed. "You look amazing, by the way. I'm glad you're feeling well."

"I should be after I was made to go to several different doctors."

"That many?" she asked in surprise. "Is everything…alright?"

Malachi didn't want to further alarm her. It was best to keep things cordial for now. She was in labor or about to be. Aside from that, their relationship, whatever they were to each other right now, was up in the air. He didn't want to discuss such things now of all times and he didn't want to talk about the reality of what he'd been going through since their impromptu break up. She didn't need to hear that.

"I'm fine," he said managing a half-smile.

Bra looked unconvinced. "But you needed to see a doctor? It's alright, Malachi. You won't hurt my feelings if you just tell me how you've been doing. I guess, no, I _know_ it must've been…difficult."

Only for half a second did Malachi consider jumping headfirst into giving her what she was probably fishing for, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He didn't think he _needed_ to do it. He wasn't exactly keen on rehashing what he'd like to simply move on from—it wasn't his finest moments. Even now, he wondered if he could have handled things a little better, been a stronger person.

"I've been recording again," he finally said, "And it's been good. I enrolled Jensen into elementary school and he's been doing well."

"Wow, Jensen's in school now? Do you think he really needs it?"

"Yeah, he does."

"And he was…ready for it?"

"He's a very smart kid—I think he can handle school just fine. Can't keep him hidden away forever."

"I understand that, but he's not even—" Bra paused as she glanced over at Astor who still seemed to be paying more attention to her phone than to them. "He's not even _old_ enough."

"Only in years, but you know that doesn't apply to Jensen."

"Doesn't it? I mean, sure he seems like he's older than he really is, but it hasn't been that long that he's even lived."

"How about you just trust me on this," Malachi said already growing weary of the conversation. "He can handle it."

Bra matched his gaze challengingly, but then relented as he was not about to budge on this decision. He'd already introduced the boy to school; it would be far worse pulling him out all of a sudden when he seemed to be making fair progress.

"Fine—I guess I didn't have much say-so on this in the first place."

Unperturbed, his mind was already on other things. "How's Machi been?"

"Miserable," Bra said at once. "At the end of the day, I really suck at quieting her down. I had to get Grandma to do it."

"I see," he said trying to keep his expression neutral. In reality, he didn't like what he was hearing. In that instance, he realized that Bra was more concerned for her own happiness than that of her own child. How difficult would it have been to call him if she was having so much trouble with Machi?

"You have something to say, don't you?" Bra said apparently watching him closer than he'd expected.

"No," he said relenting. "But I would like to see her again—Machi."

"Of course," Bra said much to his relief. "You can come over anytime."

He smiled ironically at her sudden change of heart. Now he could come visit if only to deal with Machi and only because Bra felt like it—there was no greater reason, no sense of responsibility.

"Now that smile was full of double meaning. You want to actually say what you're thinking this time?"

"I look forward to visiting," he said back. He left it at that and he would not be convinced to say anything further no matter what she said.

"Visiting?" Bra asked. "Well, since you're here and all, I thought we were, you know…"

"I'm here out of concern for you—and I don't want you to do this alone. Everything else, well that's a different matter, isn't it?"

"There you go again complicating things," Bra said with a huff turning away from him.

"Don't worry about it," Malachi said returning to his phone. "I'm here for you—that's all that matters right now, okay?"

"And you're still not gonna' sing for me?" Bra asked in pouty tones, "Since you're 'here for me'?"

"I'll let you watch a video on my phone—how about that?" he asked.

"That's not the same," she said stubbornly.

Malachi ignored her completely in hopes that she'd let the matter rest, but he should have known better.

"Guess I'll just have to do it myself. And you know I can't hold a note to save my life," Bra said.

He sighed exasperatedly, but still didn't acknowledge her directly.

"How about a Bobby Caldwell song?" she said. "Isn't he your favorite?"

Malachi was fairly certain that she didn't know any of Caldwell's songs well enough to even pretend to sing it. While Bra dabbled in Pop, she found more comfort in anything containing blaring guitars and Caldwell was a departure from that opting for a softer sound. Despite all of this, she started belting out words deliberately offkey—no one could sound so awful without trying.

 _I see you! In a loooonely place!_

She started out slowly, prolonging the agony as she butchered everything he loved about that song—it was painful to listen to. Bra looked at him challengingly as she took a deep breath threatening to continue her charades. Finally, having enough, Malachi took over, raising a finger up in warning to her not to continue.

 _How can you be so lost?_

He started roughly, but Bra had totally thrown him off and he had to find his rhythm again in an awkward place.

 _You're still regretting the love you left, left behind._

 _Oh darling_ —he found his stride here— _I've seen you go through a change_

 _Sitting alone each night—_ He was looking at Bra now, referring to her as if she was the girl that he was singing about. Perhaps, in this case, he was.

 _Are you expecting to find a love, love that's right?_ —Bra was smiling now and, despite himself, so did he.

Here the song picked up predominately with the sound of a piano and a driving rhythm. Malachi decided to sing it a bit slower since this was completely a Capello so the familiar sounds of the music could not fulfill its usual role.

 _Darling open your eyes._

 _Let me show you the light.—_ Bra started clicking her fingers as she apparently knew the melody.

 _Girl you'll never find a love that's right._

 _Darling open your eyes._

 _Let me show you the light._

 _Girl you think you're so wise, you're so wise.—_ For some reason, Malachi enjoyed that last line more than he'd like to admit.

He noticed Astor as well now clearly with her attentions on him and enjoying his efforts. She'd moved closer to the bed and watched with a partial smile. It was nice to have an audience no matter how small. Bra paused in her snaps as he started on the comparatively slower verse.

 _There are times, when you'll need someone;_

 _I will be by your side._ —Bra's smile grew a little at this.

 _I'll take my chances before they pass, pass me by._

 _Oh darlin', there is a light that shines, special for you and me_

 _You need to look at the other side_

 _You'll agree._

Then the hook started up again and this time even Astor joined her in the "rhythm" section though with claps instead of clicks.

 _Darling open your eyes._

 _Let me show you the light._

 _You may never find a love that's right._

He repeated that section quite a few times before ending with a slightly different version:

 _Darling open your eyes._

 _Let me show you the light_

 _Girl you think you're so wise;_

 _You may never find a love that's right._

The song was a heavily instrumented one and at this point, it continued as the guitar continued to ride the melody along with the bright, catchy notes of the piano. Malachi imagined, it would be difficult to actually play on the piano as it was the central sound. By the end of it, Bra was quite satisfied and, at the very least, Malachi took pleasure from that.

"See? That wasn't so hard, now was it?"

"Sure, after pulling my leg hard enough," he retorted, though by his tone it was obvious that he was not truly angry. It was hard to actually be upset after singing probably one of his most favorite songs by Caldwell. He wondered how she had known. "Are we feeling entertained yet?"

"Truth be told, I wouldn't mind another song, but I guess that would be pushing my luck, right?"

"Correct," he answered affirmatively.

"Ugh, you're so impossible sometimes. Are you really not in the mood?"

"I'm not."

"Something bothering you?"

He sighed. "Have you already forgotten why you're even here? Do you know what it is we're waiting for?"

"I know all that and I'll feel a lot better once this is over with and I can move on. Right now, I don't want to think about it."

While it was in his nature to dwell on things, he knew it was Bra's habit to shove unpleasant things into a corner and forget about them. In her world, everything was bright and beautiful. If it wasn't, she'd either distance herself or find some way to make it fit into her world.

"Here," Malachi said as he handed her his phone, "Seems like you need it more than me."

There was a television in the room, but Bra didn't seem interested in this. For as long as Malachi had known her, she wasn't all that interested in television. She preferred short videos on the internet or movies. Though there was probably a way to use the high-tec television to do the same thing, his phone allowed more privacy.

Malachi didn't care that Bra now had access to his phone and therefore his call history and text messages that he sent out to others. He had nothing to hide. For the time being, he sat back in his chair and relaxed.

"Shouldn't we call your parents?" Malachi asked as it just came to him that they were missing and this seemed pretty important.

"No," she said, "This is between me and you. This is our child."

"Alright," Malachi said relenting. He didn't want to agitate her, but it didn't seem right to simply leave them out of the loop. They'd find out anyways eventually. With a shrug, he closed his eyes pretending to sleep.

* * *

 _ **Father…**_

Malachi woke up with a start, finding Astor standing before him. He'd only been lightly sleeping as it was difficult for him to do anything further especially not while in a chair.

"Malachi? Sorry, did I wake you?" Astor asked kindly.

"No—I was just resting my eyes." He glanced over at Bra and found that she was thoroughly asleep. "Amazing, how she can just fall asleep with all that's happened."

"Well, after a few hours of nothing happening, it can happen to the best of us," Astor said with a grin.

"What time is it?" Malachi asked.

Astor flicked on her phone. "Almost three in the afternoon."

"Hm, perfect," he said as an idea came to him.

She stepped back a little as he climbed to his feet and stretched, various cramped bones made a few popping noises. He'd been sitting for hours.

"You must be pretty bored sitting around here all day," Malachi commented to the child. "How long are you going to be here?"

"For as long as it takes—I don't have anything pressing to do anyway," she said with a shrug. "By the way," Astor began as he reached over to Bra's bed to grab his phone. "You're surprisingly handsome in real life—I always thought the camera was doing something."

"Don't be fooled, kid, that's just the magic of professional grade makeup and someone who really knows how to apply it. You don't look so bad yourself."

"Even so," Astor said with a dreamy tone to her voice.

He'd gotten to his phone by now and chose wisely not to make further comment on her statement.

"Thank you for the performance earlier even though you didn't want to do it. It was nice."

Malachi grinned at her despite himself. "You're very welcome." She stood now with her hands clasped behind herself. "Jensen should be just getting out of school…" he said to himself as he pulled up his contacts.

"Who's Jensen?" Astor asked curiously.

"My son—he goes to school nearby. Come to think of it," he said looking a little closer at her, "Shouldn't you be in school too?"

"No," she said simply.

She didn't elaborate and he didn't press for it though he did regard her with a raised eyebrow. Instead, he called up Benjamin—the person he'd charged with getting Jensen home from school and watching him until he managed to get home late at night. Benjamin confirmed that he was on his way home with Jensen much to Malachi's relief. He trusted Benjamin to take care of Jensen enough that he didn't call him each day about this, but now was different. Malachi asked if it was possible to bring Jensen down to the hospital where he was. He wasn't exactly sure if Bra was okay with this, but having Jensen nearby would put him at ease. Besides, Astor was here practically by herself with only a phone to occupy her—she could use the company as well. Satisfied, Malachi took a seat again. Looking at his phone, he noticed a text from Pan inquiring where he was. He quickly replied with the address. At least he knew that Pan was on the way—just when he was pondering calling her again for good measure. There was no telling when labor would begin—he'd like to have a sensu bean on hand before that. He forced himself to remain calm because anything else would do little to help the situation.

"Sorry for disturbing you, Mr. Malachi, but I've always wondered—what's your last name?" Astor asked. She hadn't moved very far from where she'd been standing previously.

"First of all, just call me Malachi—makes me feel like an old man otherwise." This drew a grin from the girl. "My surname? It's not something I publicize overly much."

"But, you do have one, right? Even in biographies, I never see it mentioned."

"Well," he said with a sigh, "Officially, I didn't have a last name on record, but after I was adopted by…" he pointed an open palm towards Astor as he assumed she must have known who that person was—it was a well-known fact.

"Quint?" Astor said in questioning tones.

"Yeah," Malachi confirmed. "Quint. He insisted that I take _his_ last name."

"Oh, so it's Jaxson," Astor said putting it together. "Malachi Jaxson. It has a nice ring to it."

"It does," he admitted, though he was not used to anyone saying his full name. Every once in a while, Quint might say it, but that was once every blue moon.

He glanced over at Bra who had not budged the entire time. The oxytocin bag was now halfway empty and still nothing had changed. Likely, they had a few hours left to wait.

"Are you hungry? Have you eaten anything?" Malachi asked the girl realizing that he was ravenous and he'd managed to miss breakfast once again.

She shook her head no. "I was starting to get a little hungry."

"What would you like to eat?"

"You're buying?" she asked in surprise.

"Why not? I don't mind."

"Okay, well, there's this certain fast food joint I like to go to…" Astor began as she gave him in detail exactly what she'd like from a place that was a little ways out.

He'd given her an inch and she'd taken a mile, but he wasn't bothered by it. As he didn't have a preference, he decided he'd simply get something from there. He was fairly certain on the things that Bra liked and decided that he'd simply surprise her rather than waking her up. He had a feeling that resting was good for her right about now. He'd seek out the doctor to see what would be best for her to eat.

"Alright, kid, I'll be back in a few," he said standing up once again and then making his way out of the room.

He hoped he'd make it back before either Pan or Jensen made it, but he couldn't be sure. He decided to get something for them. When he stepped out of the room he remembered the strange man who'd been at the door before. He was nowhere to be found then. Perhaps he'd left. Just as Malachi began moving down the hall, however, he noticed the same man making his way back.

"Auden Tyga, right?" Malachi asked as he approached the man.

"Correct," he answered with a small nod. He had stopped in his tracks before him.

"You want anything to eat?" Malachi asked.

"I've eaten already. Though I appreciate the gesture."

Malachi studied the man for a moment. "I'm confused—what do you have to do with all this?"

"Bra fell ill during work hours. I took her here along with my daughter as soon as possible."

Malachi was caught off guard by this, assuming that she must have been taken in by the ambulance. "Is that right? Then you have my thanks. I feel like I owe you for getting her here so quickly."

"Perhaps not quickly enough. You don't owe me anything—it was simply the right thing to do."

"Even still," he said seeing the man in a different light. "Must be a handful having Bra working for you."

"Not at all. She's proven herself useful. She's also quite punctual far more than some of the others."

"That's good to hear. It's just hard for me to imagine her wanting to work somewhere. I wonder why she chose to do it now?"

"Perhaps that is a question best answered by her."

"I suppose you're right," Malachi agreed, turning a bit in preparation to leave.

"My daughter—she adores your music," Auden said causing the other to pause.

It was an awkward segue, but Malachi looked back at the other as he spoke.

"I'm sure having you here is making her day," he finished.

"Well, that's nice to know," Malachi said, "I suppose it's the least I can do. Your daughter—how old is she?"

"She's much older than she looks," Auden replied, "But she appears as someone around twelve due to a genetic disorder."

Malachi was hardly prepared to receive such news, but he seemingly took it in stride. It didn't seem so farfetched after spending some time with the girl. "As crazy as that sounds, it makes sense. I've never heard of such a thing."

"It is a rare disorder," he offered.

"I can see that. You know, you don't have to stand out here all day. I'm sure Bra wouldn't mind if you came in."

"I beg to differ."

"Alright, well, suit yourself," Malachi said turning from the man. "Thanks again."

Having nothing further to say, the two of them parted ways. He'd almost forgotten to put on the mask he'd been wearing and, in fact, he had to return to the room once to retrieve it. However, a few nurses had already recognized him—he had to be better with these sorts of things. Once a few knew, eventually all of them would know. He just hoped it wouldn't trickle down to everyone who happened to be in the building—he didn't need the headache right now. Since he was leaving, however, he hoped that would solve the issue.

Feeling in the mood for listening to music once he got back to his car—which was often the case—he turned up the volume as soon as he turned on one of his many playlists. It was nice to take a breather as his mind began to process everything that had just happened.

* * *

 **Pan listened to Malachi's voicemail as she sat down for her lunch break.** She loved receiving such things from him. To think that he would take time out of his day to not only contact her but leave a message with his own voice was sometimes more than she could wrap her head around. She'd done well not to mention her friendship with Malachi to others. It would draw unwanted attention and she was sure she'd be inundated with people trying to talk to him through her. If there was one thing Pan wanted to avoid, it was cheapening her relationship with Malachi or making him feel as if she was just using him because of who he was.

He sounded worried over the phone and this concerned her deeply. He had need of a sensu bean, but he didn't entirely explain the circumstances. Malachi didn't need to do any of that. All he needed to do was ask and she would see to fulfilling whatever it is. This was about Bra so she knew this had to be serious. Pan did have a sensu bean that she carried with her in her wallet at all times. Two more sensu beans were in her apartment in a small drawer to her nightstand.

Something told her that it would be better if she came in person rather than have him come pick it up—that would take longer. Deciding this, she told the other doctor on duty that she had a family emergency to tend to and left within another hour. That was all it took at her workplace. Though it was a busy place, it wasn't uncommon for employees to leave if something came up. As long as there were enough people there to pick up the slack, the manager would allow it. Pan had an excellent track record with coming in on time and doing a lot of overtime. Rarely, did she take time off for herself and she'd built up quite a bit of vacation hours for occasions like these when she needed to take off. She was a salaried worker so she did not have to punch in like many of her other coworkers.

Pan asked Malachi for the hospital address through text and he'd given it to her within the next few minutes. With this, she was off. It would take her almost an hour to arrive if she flew at a moderate speed. It had not escaped Pan that Malachi had given her the address to a hospital. It just happened to be the largest, most well-equipped in West City.

She made it to the place in record time and then walked quickly through the entrance to speak with the front desk administrators. She asked for Bra and they sent her in the right direction. They gave her a bit of a funny look when she asked to see her, but she paid them no mind. It didn't take her long to come across the room. What she saw upon stepping in was Bra asleep on the hospital bed. It was easy for her to see that she was pregnant—a fact which took her by surprise. When had this happened? Why is she here? Why hadn't she known about this? Innumerable questions without answers began to form in her mind, but she knew it probably wouldn't be ideal to wake her. Her best bet was to call Malachi since he was nowhere to be found despite asking her to come.

It was then that she realized that she was not the only one there aside from Bra. She looked behind herself and found herself locking eyes with a tall blond man who leaned against the wall as if it was nothing out of the ordinary that he was there. She stepped a little closer to him noticing his casual business attire along with a bright green tie. He wore no suit jacket revealing a clean, pressed collared shirt under a dark green vest. His crystal blue eyes slightly obscured by eyeglasses seemed to pierce right through her very soul. The pure intelligence she felt from him with a mere gaze made her weak in the knees, but she was able to recover herself somewhat. She realized that she hadn't even said a word for a slow passing minute; he hadn't as well. For a moment of time, it felt as if they existed in a world wholly containing them. She should have been wondering why a complete stranger was occupying Bra's room, but instead she was doing nothing more than gawking.

"What are you doing…" she began slowly, but didn't quite finish—it seemed her vocabulary had left her, leaving her quite dumbfounded.

He'd been holding his phone up making it likely that he'd been fiddling with it prior to her arriving. "Troubleshooting," he answered, apparently not finding her question strange.

He turned his phone towards her and she stepped closer in order to get a better view of the tiny words strewn against the white screen. She couldn't understand anything there—it was completely foreign. She looked up at him in confusion. He wore a subtle grin which drew one from her.

"Computer language," he further explained. "Simple and to the point. I left one of my trusted colleagues in charge and yet it seems I still have to lend my aid."

"Oh…I see," Pan said, "You can do all that from your phone?"

"What are phones but compact computers? I can accomplish a great deal from this device, access almost anything in the world."

"Really?" she asked amazed despite herself.

"Indeed."

"You must have had your phone specially made then."

"No. It's just a normal phone reprogrammed. It's something that can be done to any phone—even yours if you wanted."

"Oh, I wouldn't know what to do with all that," Pan said glancing at her pocket where her phone presently resided.

"I doubt it's beyond your capabilities given time."

A blush came across her cheeks and she could do nothing to conceal it. This man, this genius had practically complimented her intellect. Such a thing had never happened to her before. She found that she liked it. "You're far too kind. I can hardly figure out how to video chat let alone putting on anything extra."

"Yet my thoughts of you remain unswayed."

She stepped a little closer to him becoming once again enraptured in his gaze. She still hadn't even bothered asking the pertinent questions. "I'm sorry—I completely forgot to ask your name," Pan said pulling herself together.

"Auden Tyga," he answered automatically. "I apologize as well for not being more upfront about such information."

"No, no, don't be. You're fine."

"And your name?" he asked after a moment.

"Oh, sorry—Son Pan."

"Son Pan," he repeated. "I like the sound of it. Simple and to the point."

"W-well, thank you."

"You're very welcome."

The conversation lulled again as she tried to figure out what she should be asking him. Was it her imagination or did his gaze seem to intensify the longer she stood there. She forced her eyes to look elsewhere so that she could gather her scrambling thoughts. She noticed something that immediately piqued her interest when her eyes settled upon his left hand—on his middle finger he wore a plain black ring, a strong indication of his asexuality, but it could also mean nothing at all. Pan couldn't be sure and she was not comfortable asking him at this point.

"I came here because Malachi asked me to and now he's not even here. It's been nice meeting you and all, but I have no idea why you're here or even what's happening."

"Let me give you a quick recap," Auden said.

From there, he did give her a short and sweet report on what had been happening with Bra and then Malachi. As far as Bra being in grave danger, Auden didn't think so. Aside from the eventual labor, Auden believed that they were out of the woods physically speaking, but emotionally was a different story altogether. She seemed to be taking it well considering.

"Bra's always been like that," Pan said, "She bounces back from things better than anyone I've ever known. I think it's impossible for her to actually be depressed."

"That is a useful trait to have," Auden said. "Coping with reality is often a difficult endeavor."

"Yeah, it can be," she said thoughtfully. Pan suspected that he spoke from experience as she noted a subtle change of tone. "It's nice that you took time out of your day to stay here and make sure she's alright although I'm sure she must be a handful at work."

"You're not the first to say that about her. She seems no more difficult to work with than most others. Maybe I don't know her as well as you do."

"Clearly," Pan said with a grin, "But that's alright—maybe it's better that way. I suppose now all I can do is wait. Do you know when Malachi will be back?"

"It may take him some time, but he left a while ago."

"Okay," Pan said with a nod.

"What is it that you do for a living?" he asked her before she could utter another word.

Pan smiled at this, warmed by his apparent interest in her. "I'm a veterinarian at a practice that specializes in providing affordable care to pets. We're busy almost every day. People from all over come as a last resort when the regular vet charges them these outrageous prices."

"Such expenses can prove to be a deterrent to would-be pet owners," Auden said.

Pan nodded, "You got that right—and that's what we need to avoid especially if we're to continue to keep down the stray population and help overcrowded shelters."

"That is an admirable goal."

"Just today we got a special delivery on our doorstep this morning."

She thought for a moment whether she should show him the bundle of black and white kittens they'd gotten that day early in the morning. It didn't take her long to decide as she was now pulling out her phone. The other watched her with what she assumed was curiosity as she flicked on her phone and navigated to her pictures. She moved even closer to him until she was quite certain that they were breathing in each other's air—she could feel his warmth now; she was just shy of actually touching him.

"See?" she said bringing up the picture and holding the phone towards him.

"They're…very cute," he commented slowly.

For a moment, she thought he was disinterested, but then she couldn't be completely sure of this as she began to sense other things about him. His breathing had quickened, his heartrate was racing. The warmth that she felt before increased into a fierce hotness. He seemed nervous and all she had done was shown him a picture. Pan, noticing these things, decided not to comment on this. Maybe _she_ was making him nervous; maybe he wasn't used to being around women. It could be a number of things and she didn't want to assume the worse.

"I know—they're so tiny and vulnerable." She showed a picture of her holding one of the kittens in the palm of her hand.

"I-I'm sorry, s-something has come up," he said seemingly out of nowhere.

"Oh—sorry. Didn't mean to keep you," Pan said, finding his actions a bit odd.

He pulled away from her quickly and he made a hasty retreat out of the room. Though she was concerned and curious as to where he was going, she waited a moment before peeking out of the room. They were on quite a long hallway and he'd made it far down the corridor before apparently stopping. Most would not have been able to make him out at such a distance, but being who she was, she could see him clearly. He leaned back against the wall as if to gather himself. Slowly he brought up his hands as if to study them and she realized quickly that they were shaking badly. Such a sight likely alarmed him as he clasped his hands behind his back before moving forward again disappearing further down the hall and through the double doors.

Pan wanted to follow him, but she wondered if that would be the best thing to do. The longer she waited, the more her desire grew. Eventually, she looked over at Bra's resting form—the reason she'd come in the first place.

"Don't worry, I'll be right back. I promise," Pan said more for her own benefit than anyone else's.

She left the room in pursuit of Auden. She was simply concerned, she'd told herself. As a medical professional, that was completely understandable. Often her curiosity proved essential in helping other people and animals. It wasn't in her nature to simply let things be. When she felt something was wrong, she had to investigate.

Once Pan herself had passed through the double doors, she'd just made it to see him make a left down another hall. Pan made sure to keep herself at least one good corner away from him as he passed through various intersections of halls. He soon stopped at a small café and Pan watched the other stroll through a set of clear doors. It was easy enough to see inside.

He ordered something and then took a large cup of water with him to an empty table. Not many patrons were in there and he sat at a table near the entrance he'd just walked through facing towards it. She could see him clearly. Though he could look up and his eyes would be pointed in her general direction, she doubted he'd be able to see her at the distance she was.

He lifted up his hands to study them again. Though they still trembled it was far less than before. Out of his pocket, he pulled out a small sandwich bag which contained an assortment of pills. Two of these Pan recognized immediately. One was a powerful drug used for depression and then the other primarily used for paranoia and anxiety. She could only imagine what the other pills were managing. For a moment, Pan leaned against the wall with a sigh full of self-pity. "Of course I'd like the guy who has a few screws loose—you'd have to be insane to be even a little interested me…" she said to herself. The feeling passed quickly as she turned to look at him again.

He'd taken the pills and had taken down the entirety of the contents in the clear cup. Presently, he'd lowered his head upon his now resting crossed arms on the table. He seemed weary, but she had not sensed that from him when she'd first met him and that hadn't been long ago. He stayed in that position for only a moment before taking out his phone and becoming preoccupied with it. Pan considered leaving at that moment as she'd seen enough and felt a bit like she was stalking him. That was when he answered a call from his phone. Despite herself, she leaned in a bit closer to read his lips.

"I've already taken them. As always, I appreciate the concern." He paused as he listened to whatever the other person was saying. The pause went on for quite some time before he spoke again. "I'll be here whenever you get back. Take your time. Should something happen, I'll let you know."

The conversation was largely uneventful and she once again thought of leaving. Just as she was about to turn away, however, he mentioned her name, but she could have been mistaken as she hadn't been following the dialogue for the past minute.

"…she seemed very nice. A kind woman who also happens to be a veterinarian." Pan watched closer now as the other paused to listen. "Sorry, I can only describe her in general terms—better words escape me." Another pause. "I'll keep that in mind. I'm certainly in no position to invite drama. I doubt things would ever go so far being who I am. No need to worry."

He soon hung up the phone and Pan decided that now would be a good time to stop spying on him. His food was apparently ready as he stood up and brought back a tray that contained a half-foot sub—a relatively small amount of food considering that he had nothing else with it aside from a glass of water.

* * *

 **Malachi arrived back in Bra's room again carrying quite a bit of food with him.** He'd gotten something for himself, Bra, Jensen, Astor, Pan, and a little something for Auden if he changed his mind upon seeing everyone else partaking in food. Strangely enough, the room was empty aside from Bra. It seemed everyone had something else to do. He knew Jensen would be a bit late since he had homework and would come only after finishing. Everyone else?—he had no idea. Pan should have been here already at the very least. Her continued absence made him a bit anxious.

He turned to Bra when he heard some movement from the bed—she was finally waking up. He'd already set all the brown bags of food on the rolling table nearby. Seeing this, he stood closer to the bed so that he'd be the first thing she saw upon waking. A smile graced her face as she fully regained wakefulness in record time.

"Food," Bra said singularly as her eyes became more interested in that than him.

Malachi wasn't at all surprised by this reaction—in fact, it might have even been the reason she'd awakened in the first place. "Thought you might be hungry," he said as he opened one of the bags.

"Is all that for me?" she asked.

"Not quite," he said with a grin, "Couldn't get you your favorites—doctor's orders." He began to take out the hot food from the bag for her.

"You know what would be even better?" Bra asked looking at him now, "Your cooking."

"I doubt I'd have so much food ready in such a short time," he said with a short laugh.

"I'd wait a little longer for that. I kind of miss your cooking," Bra admitted.

"Well, I'm sure this will suffice. How do you feel now?"

Bra thought for a moment. "No more uncomfortable than expected—I can feel the contractions starting, but it's light. It's just like it was last time."

"How was it last time?" he asked in curiosity.

A look of realization crossed her face as if she'd once again forgotten that he'd not been there for that. "It was way less scary than what people were making it out to be and from what I read. The doctor kept asking if I wanted an epidural, but I didn't need one. All that pain I was supposed to be feeling—it didn't amount to much. Then it was all over just like that."

Malachi's eyebrows furrowed at this. "That's a relief. I thought…well, I didn't know what to think. I guess all this is easier for you because of who you are?"

"That's the only explanation that makes sense. I don't expect this time to be any different. Well, that part anyway. You don't need to worry."

"I'll try not to," he said as he finished setting out her food.

"Seriously, Malachi, this is not the thing you need to worry about," she said sitting up. "It's the least of my worries," she finished quietly.

He sat down on the chair beside her, making himself comfortable before getting to his steamy food. "Then what is it that worries you the most, more than what's about to happen if all goes well?"

 _Father…_

Malachi looked up from his food when he heard that word spoken as clear as day. The voice which had spoken sounded a lot like his own so he wondered if he had just imagined it. Still for a moment, Malachi waited alert to hear more, but nothing further occurred after one long minute.

"Something wrong?" Bra asked.

He felt her eyes on him now. He shook her head no as he tried to appear more relaxed in the chair. He wondered if he was slowly losing his mind. "Just remembered something I needed to do later," he said dismissively. It didn't take much to draw her attention away from him.

"I'm worried about 'us'. What'll you do once this is over?"

Malachi sighed. "You already know the answer to that. I'll—"

"I'm sorry for the things I said at that dinner. It was supposed to be a nice little outing and I ruined everything with my ignorance."

He watched her intently as she spoke not quite believing his own ears. "Bra…are you actually…apologizing?"

"I am—and I don't do that very often so don't ask me to say it again."

Malachi was rendered speechless as he struggled to wrap his mind around what had just happened. This wasn't what he expected and it was all so sudden coming at a time which made so little sense. Why was this the thing she was most worried about?

"I know, I know, this is terrible timing," she said as if she could read his mind—a rare moment in itself. "I get over things quickly and sometimes people think it's a bit odd; I guess I get that from my father—or I'm just burying things, I don't know. But I _know_ that my child has passed away and I _know_ there's nothing I can do about it. I don't know where we stand and not knowing is far more nerve-wracking. And you're here. Against all odds, you're here despite those shitty things I said to you."

"Bra, I will always support you," Malachi said slowly. He knew this to be true. If she called, he would answer.

"But will you come home with me? Just tell me right now—since I've…apologized."

He could easily throw caution to the wind and say yes. Everything would return to what it used to be. They could start again where they left off. He could marry the woman who was the mother of his child and, in fact, the only woman he'd ever seriously considered spending the rest of his life with. He'd always wanted those things for himself—a family, a home—for the sake of his own happiness. He believed that those things would make him happy and fill in the void which had always been there since the very beginning. During their long separation, after crawling through the depths of depression, he realized that this may not be the case. Bra could be the catalyst of his happiness as well as his destruction. The way he was now—content and satisfied for the most part aside from a few caveats—could that not be considered the life that he sought? Did he really require a physically intimate relationship or simply a cherished friendship?

Bra looked at him intently as these thoughts went through his mind. He knew that he couldn't deny her, not when he still felt something for her however diminished that love might have become over time. It was akin to being weaned off of alcohol for a short while, but then being presented with it again. He still liked the taste of it, and he couldn't deny that it would bring him a fair measure of enjoyment. Once the taste of it was on his tongue again, he'd become just as infatuated and obsessed as he had been in the first place even knowing that it was probably better to avoid the whole thing altogether. One last taste wouldn't hurt. One last sample. But that sentiment was a lie. There was never a "last" taste.

"Eventually," Malachi finally said in quiet tones.

"Eventually? Do you need to talk to the peanut gallery first before you make a decision?" Bra pressed. "You'll feel the same tomorrow as you feel now. Let's not prolong things. Please don't make this any harder than it needs to be."

"Is there some kind of time constraint?"

"No—I don't mean to rush you. It's just, you know how impatient I can get. This has been going on for _weeks_ now. I kind of regret not calling you sooner."

"Me too."

"Then just tell me 'yes'. _That_ would make me feel better right now."

All this was probably happening too quickly, he felt that this was the case, but he wondered if he should even care about that. He'd never been beholden to convention or what was "accepted". He existed almost exclusively outside of the box. If those were the only things holding him back…

His head turned when he saw Pan enter the room via his peripherals and soon their conversation was interrupted as they welcomed her arrival. Apparently, it had been some time since Bra had spoken to Pan judging from the comments she made "long time, no see" and "so what have you been up to these days?". Malachi was relieved to see her and not only because she probably had a sensu bean with her. He did receive a bit of an annoyed look from Bra once she found out that he'd told her about what was happening with her, but he paid her no mind.

"I bought some food for you," Malachi said after a while to Pan, "It's your favorite."

"Tacos?" Pan asked hopefully.

"Of course," Malachi said smoothly as he handed her the bag.

"Oh, so you got food for _everyone_ ," Bra said in an unamused tone.

"Why not? I was already out there and I knew she was coming."

"Did you call up my parents as well while you were at it? Marron, her parents? Matter of fact, why not all the Sons?"

"I get it," Malachi said, "You don't want too many people here. It was just Pan. We, uh—"

"It just slipped out in conversation," Pan said.

"You two talk?" Bra asked in pleasant tones, Malachi could already sense the jealousy behind her tone.

"We do. Quite a bit," Malachi said, "Almost every night."

For only a split second did he even attempt to hide this fact. Then he realized that he didn't want to. He'd only wanted to in the first place because Bra would be jealous. He constantly tiptoed around Bra both in words and actions because of how easily her jealousy could strike, but this was something he decided at this moment that he would no longer do especially if he was doing nothing wrong. Perhaps it was a test, perhaps he was simply weary of all the shenanigans. The worry that he had before over upsetting Bra was now nonexistent. She spoke her mind and now, so would he. It was a refreshing realization. The fear of her not liking him was not a feeling that ruled him any longer. Being without Bra wouldn't, in fact, be the end of the world. He knew what that felt like and he felt that he could deal with it, perhaps not on his own, but eventually. He was emboldened by this fact.

"What?" Bra asked with an edge to her tone. "That seems a bit much."

"Not to me," Malachi said. "We've become closer friends these past weeks. Haven't we?" he said looking to Pan now.

"Uh, yeah, we have," Pan said. She seemed a bit caught off guard and she looked at him with a confused expression.

Bra could do nothing more but smile and nod. "I see. Guess I shouldn't be surprised. Completely understandable."

There was a note of sadness to her tone that Malachi immediately noticed and just like that, he felt guilty.

"I'm going to go…see if they have another chair," Pan said making a hasty escape. Malachi didn't blame her.

As soon as she was gone, Bra's eyes were on him again waiting for the answer to her previous question. Her arms were crossed and one finger tapped impatiently, but he simply wasn't ready to give her a concrete answer. Not right now.

"Will you give it a rest?" he said wearily, "Just give me some time to think."

He knew she wouldn't like this answer, but he at least wanted to finish eating his food. He knew what his answer would be, but for the sake of not seeming completely desperate he decided to wait.

"Fine," she said, "Just make me suffer longer."

"Don't be so dramatic."

Bra began on her food as well and for a while all was quiet save for the sound of plastic and paper being opened.

"What about Marron?" Bra asked.

"What about her?"

"Have you been hanging out with her as well?"

"Yes, yes I have," Malachi said; he didn't expound as to the extent. "Though your line of questioning isn't helping your case."

"What do you mean?" Bra asked haughtily.

"It's as if you don't trust me at all. It's always been like that."

"That's silly. I trust you. Why do you think I wanted you here?"

"Out of convenience. Maybe you simply felt like having me around today. Not that it matters—of course, I'd come. You can _say_ you trust me, but your actions tell me something else entirely."

"So you don't think it's fair that I ask you who you've been hanging out with? It's just a normal straightforward question. And you could do the same to me if you wanted to."

"But I don't. I never grill you with questions like that. The whole thing just gets extremely annoying, knowing that I'll probably tell you anyway in passing."

"As if there's a 'certain way' I need to do things. You know me. I will say what I please, how I please. I don't _mean_ to annoy you, but you should know better."

"Oh, I know quite well. I'm just letting _you_ know that when you ask me questions like that, it makes me think that you don't trust me."

"I already told you that I do," Bra replied with a shrug.

"So you have," Malachi said leaving it at that. He knew they were going around in a circle at this point and that there was no point in continuing in that vein. He'd said what he wanted whether she'd been listening or not.

"I'm surprised you even managed to hang out with Marron—she likes to keep to herself."

"She does," he agreed, "But once you get to know her, she opens up a bit."

Bra snorted. "Not to me. I barely even know her boyfriend's name."

"Lucas," Malachi said singularly, "Though I'm not at liberty to say anything else—it seemed like it was very personal."

"Of course, somehow you get her to talk. I guess you've been hanging out with her a lot."

"I see we're still on _that_ topic."

"Is it a crime for me to be curious?"

"No, it isn't."

"And don't think I don't notice how short you're being with me."

"Shocking."

"Real cute, Malachi. Real childish. Maybe you've been hanging out with Jensen for too long."

"I hardly associate Jensen with 'childish'."

"You know what I mean."

Malachi simply continued with his food.

"But seriously, you do know that I trust you, right?" she asked.

"I know that you think you do," he said after finishing off what was already in his mouth.

"And the stuff that I said before that I apologized for—I did some research. I found out a lot of things about being…the way that you are."

The food he was eating was beginning to have a sour taste in his mouth. "I don't feel like talking about that right now."

"You don't feel like talking about a lot of things, huh," Bra accused.

"No, I don't want to talk about me, about who I'm hanging out with, about where our relationship stands—all of that doesn't matter right now. We're here literally waiting for you to give birth to a stillborn, a child that never saw the light of day and that we'll only get to meet in death." He stopped talking as he felt growing moisture in his eyes. He didn't want to give himself away with a faltering voice.

"Oh…I," she began uncertainly. Then he felt her eyes on him. "I know it sucks. I'm trying not to think too deeply about it, I'm trying to distract myself. But I know you can't do that. You like to dwell on things. Malachi, could you look at me, please? I just want to see your eyes."

After taking a moment to contain himself, he looked over at her. But seeing her laying there very obviously pregnant only brought forth more moisture, but none of it escaped his eyes, at least not then. She studied him and the smile that she wore faded from her face.

"How are you feeling now?" Malachi asked after a moment.

"More contractions. It's a bit more frequent."

"Then I suppose it shouldn't be too much longer."

"Maybe a couple more hours."

He returned to his food. "Are you sure you don't want me to call your parents?"

"No, I'm very sure. They'll find out anyway. I don't want everyone here. It's not…something I want them to see."

Then silence returned to the room, but it wasn't long before Jensen arrived quite happy to see his father. He ran headlong into the room and grappled onto Malachi for a hug which he gave wholeheartedly. For a while, it was quite pleasant as Malachi asked how school went and Jensen went into staggering detail about what he did—he hadn't managed to make any real friends, but it was fun anyway. He liked learning new things more than anything else. Malachi eventually handed Jensen his favorite meal from the fast-food joint near their house which he appreciated immensely. Though Bra gave him a look—he knew she wouldn't agree with how unhealthy it was—she gave him little gripe on the matter.

But soon the excitement faded and Jensen started asking him questions. "Is Bra pregnant?", "Why is everyone so sad?". He was a perceptive child who was beginning to notice cracks in the sunny picture first presented to him. Malachi kept his explanation short, but he was also beginning to wonder why he had invited Jensen here in the first place. A child didn't need to see this. He feared it was for entirely selfish reasons. Jensen's presence calmed him and centered his state of mind more so than anyone else. Malachi felt as if he belonged somewhere, he felt that Jensen needed him and vice versa.

Pan returned with Auden and it seemed they were already in deep conversation with one another. Clearly, she had run into him while looking for a chair, but it seemed chairs were hard to come by and she had long abandoned the endeavor. Also, she'd already finished her food. At the very least, the man had finally decided to enter the room and Bra seemed largely unbothered by this. Malachi offered Auden some food, but he declined. Bra picked up the slack.

The last to arrive was Astor and Bra was most receptive to her. Astor had simply wanted to stretch her legs and had taken a long stroll around the massive hospital a few times. She looked none the worse for wear. Malachi gave her the food that she'd requested and she was quite overjoyed by this. Then came the moment when Astor introduced herself to Jensen. Malachi watched in interest. Just as she had done Malachi, she held her hand out to Jensen and though he looked at it slightly confused, Jensen shook her hand enthusiastically almost comically so. It was likely something Jensen had never done before, but had at least heard about. Astor seemed thoroughly amused as she laughed good-naturedly. From there, they struck up a conversation, but Malachi had no idea what about. He was sure it had something to do with their cellphones as Astor stood closer to Jensen with her phone out along with his. They looked quite preoccupied as they studied one another's phone.

Bra didn't say a word about the fact that Jensen now clearly had a phone. Malachi vaguely remembered that she was staunchly against it for reasons that had never sat well with him. Malachi soon climbed out of his seat to be closer to Bra having finished his food. She'd been feeling contractions before—it was only a matter of time. Her expression looked a bit pained though she tried to hide it.

"Two more hours, huh," Malachi said to the now haughty woman.

She didn't grace him with a glance. "It's much faster than before—everything's moving faster…"

"Should I call for the doctor?"

"Yes, please," Bra said with a nod, "As fast as possible."

Resisting the urge to simply take off and yell for a doctor, he used the nearby communication device on the nightstand beside them. "I need a doctor preferably an OB-GYN—she's about to give birth."

Everyone quieted when he said this out loud. Bra's hand sought out his own and Malachi soon offered it to her—her grip became quite firm.

"I'm glad you guys came and stayed with me this whole time—I'm really thankful I didn't have to do this alone, but please, could you all step outside while this happens? I'm too ashamed to have you here."

"You have nothing to be ashamed of," Astor said, "Even as advanced as we are these days—things like this still happens. Life is unpredictable."

"I second that," Pan said with a nod, "I don't ever want to catch you blaming yourself."

Bra smiled at them. "Thank you."

With that everyone respectably left the room leaving just him and Bra. For some reason, he felt anticipation, but he knew that that was silly. He knew what he would see here today, something dead and small and young and innocent never moving, deathly silent. Bra's grip had become even more firm than it had before. Still, it wasn't hurting him too badly.

 _Mother…Father…_

Bra looked at him surprised and Malachi tried to focus on her even as he heard those words in his head. "Did you hear that, Malachi? Tell me I'm not going crazy."

"You're not going crazy," Malachi said back steadily.

"Are you just saying things to make me feel better?"

Malachi shook his head. "This time, I'm being serious. I heard it too."

Bra nodded at him. "Good. Then we must both be going crazy."

"Simultaneous bouts of insanity? I doubt it."

"You're the one who's all emotional right now—maybe it's finally rubbing off on me."

"I doubt that as well."

Just then, Dr. Withers and a nurse stepped in carrying a stool and towels. The doctor wore a sympathetic smile on her face. "Alright, Ms. Briefs, how are we feeling?"

At this question, Malachi felt her grip tighten.

"I'm fine, doctor. I just want to get this over with."

"I understand. Let's see where we're at," Dr. Withers said gently.

The doctor pulled the covers back and lifted up the hospital gown. Bra situated herself so that the doctor could have a better view as she spread her legs apart. Dr. Withers took a pair of clean gloves from the wall nearby and proceeded to inspecting the opening. The nurse helped to hold her legs apart as well.

"Everything looks good," Dr. Withers said after a moment. "Let me help things along."

Malachi watched the woman fiddle a little longer in the widened opening and a clear liquid began gushing out—it wasn't a disturbing red color indicating blood much to his relief, but it was strange all the same seeing it in real life.

"Okay—are you ready?"—Bra nodded vigorously—"Now take a few relaxing breaths. Okay? Good. Now take a full breath and push into the pressure. Good. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. That was a _really_ good push. Keep going," the doctor encouraged.

Bra was quite concentrated on her endeavor as she soon released her grasp on his hand to instead grasp her spread, bent legs closer to her. The loudest person in the room was the doctor encouraging her to continue and all that was heard from Bra was her intermittent deep breaths between bouts of pushing. Freed from her grasp, he followed the nurse's example though he was sure she didn't need his help in that regard. He had to keep reminding himself that this child would not be alive. All this work she was doing seemed almost unnecessary. Still he watched as the head appeared—it was the strangest thing he'd ever seen. Despite knowing what would happen, seeing it was completely different. The child's eyes were closed and fluid still littered the skin. He glanced over at Bra who was now exclusively looking downward.

"Good. You're doing very well, Ms. Briefs. Just a little more, alright?"

Bra nodded again giving a little groan. "Harder than last time," she complained through labored breaths. She looked up at Malachi and he made sure to give her an encouraging smile.

Was there anything to smile about? At least this entire ordeal would be over soon. The child was almost completely out now. With a final push, the rest of the body came out and the still baby was finally thrusted into the world. His smile faded when no cries came forth—he knew this would be the case though it made it no easier to see.

"Would you like to cut the cord?" the doctor asked to him as the nurse cleaned the fluid off the baby and wrapped it in towels.

The baby looked surprisingly well-developed for a premature baby. He gave the doctor a nod and soon the nurse had the baby in prime position. It wasn't a difficult task, but his heart grew quite heavy as he gave the flesh tube a quick snip with the small metal scissors. Bra still had some work to do as far as releasing the placenta and she was more focused on this than the baby that the nurse now held in her arms. Instead of being distracted by a newborn baby, she chose to ignore the very existence of the baby. The nurse offered the baby to Bra first, but she shook her head no.

"What gender?" Malachi asked despite himself.

The tiny, wrinkly baby laid still in the woman's arms with its eyes close. He couldn't tell either way.

"Malachi," Bra said warningly as if to ask: why does it matter?

"I want to know," he said gently to her.

"It's a boy," the nurse said with a small smile. She then handed the baby to him to hold. He reached his arms out to receive him.

The baby weighed nothing at all and yet at the same time he felt quite heavy. He kissed the child softly on the forehead. His nose picked up a pleasant, sweet scent.

"Malachi, you're only making it harder for yourself. Don't get attached."

Malachi afforded her glance, but he couldn't help it. He was in his arms. The baby had had no choice in the matter. Was it right to shun the baby because of something completely out of his control?

"Is this…a normal weight for a baby like this?" Malachi asked the doctor.

Dr. Withers nodded. "I'd say the baby is at the typical weight of a full-term baby. It's really quite remarkable."

Malachi heard a tiny hiccup and he wondered then if he truly was going crazy, but he looked down anyway. Another hiccup and this time, he watched it happened. Then, just like that the baby was wailing loudly and raucously—a racket that Malachi swore could melt his ears off. His eyes widened in wonder. He could hardly believe his own eyes. He looked up at the others to make sure they were all on the same page. Amazement was written on everyone's face including Dr. Withers. The doctor rushed over with her scanning device and quickly took the baby's vitals.

"Congratulations," Dr. Withers began with wonderment in her tone, "He's within normal vital levels—he's completely healthy."

"Let me hold him," Bra said with opened arms now.

He saw the tears in her eyes as he quickly passed the baby over. He was almost too stunned to respond.

"Oh my god," Bra said with a wavering voice, "It's…it has to be…some kind of miracle. I knew it—I mean, I should have known. Saiyans are a strong, proud race—no child of mine dies without a fight."

Maybe that was the difference, Malachi thought to himself as he bent down and gave the child yet another kiss upon the forehead. Bra gave the baby several kisses and he continued to wail loudly almost drowning out anything they were saying, but, at the moment, no one cared. Let him cry as loud as he wanted to so long as he was alive.

"Malachi," Bra said getting his attention, "Names. I never bothered thinking of any and I forgot to ask you earlier! And now it has to be a really good one…"

"Calm down," Malachi said with a soft smile, "That's the easy part."

Bra looked at him mystified. "Okay, so what do you have in mind?"

"I want to name him after your father."

Bra smiled as well. "I would like that too. He's really the best father I could ever ask for and just like my father, my child is a survivor." She looked over at the doctor and nurse now who were visibly happy about the turn of events. "Please, could you bring in the others? I want everyone to know about our precious miracle."

"Right away, miss," the nurse said.

Malachi had never seen Bra so happy before especially about someone other than herself and that happiness was reflected in him as well.


	59. A Competition of Hearts

**Word had gotten out that Malachi was at the West City Hospital after his long-time girlfriend Bra had checked in for pregnancy complications.** By the time, they were able to leave the place after being given a clean bill of health, both for the baby and the mother, the press was everywhere and the cameras were flashing. It was as if the couple had their own entourage as their friends surrounded them now protectively—Pan, Auden, Astor, and Jensen.

No one was prepared for any of it, but Malachi easily slid back into his persona. It wasn't difficult as he was already in a good mood though it was dashed a bit by the sudden intrusion of the media. He was cordial with some of the reporters and answered some of their questions before politely excusing himself. The world knew about Vegeta Jr. and now also Jensen.

It took ages just to reach the car and even more time for Malachi to contact his security detail so that they could actually drive away from the place. All the while, the baby was clearly agitated and crying loudly. Only after Malachi had gotten out on the road and all the activity had died down did Vegeta Jr. finally quiet down and then fall asleep. Malachi didn't drive straight back home knowing that the car might be tailed. Though Derek—head of his security team—had insisted on being the one who drove, Malachi refused this service as he usually did. Bra had no idea who Derek was and Malachi didn't feel like having a perceived stranger driving them everywhere. Jensen sat in the back buzzing with energy from the turn of events and Bra sat in the passenger seat with Vegeta Jr. cradled in her arms.

His phone started ringing. After glancing at the caller ID that read "Mom", he simply put her through the car's system so that she could be heard by everyone.

"Hello?" Malachi answered politely.

"Malachi—so glad to hear from you after all this time."

"Likewise."

"I suppose I should have called you earlier, but—"

"No need to apologize. Things have been…strange for a while."

"Yeah, it has," Bulma agreed. "Listen, I was calling you because maybe you could explain all this paparazzi out in the front."

"Wow," Malachi said with a sardonic edge to his voice, "That was awfully quick. It's been quite eventful these past few hours. I'll just let you know what's happened now before someone else ruins the surprise."

Bra cut over him then. "Mom, I had the baby—"

"What? Oh my god, it's too soon. Are you alright? How's the—"

"Hold on, Mom, everything's okay. At first they were saying he was a stillborn, but then after he was born he just started breathing again and they gave him a clean bill of health. He's completely healthy despite everything. Don't ask me how, that's just how it worked out. And, well, I guess I gave it away already, but he's a boy and we—Malachi and I—decided to name him after Dad."

Bulma was quiet for almost a minute before they heard anything again. "Vegeta Jr.?" she asked finally.

"Yes, Mom," Bra confirmed.

"I think your dad would love that. You know he wanted to name Trunks that, but he lost a coin toss?" she said with a laugh.

"Well, the tradition finally continues," Malachi said back.

"We're coming home, but the media's having a field day," Bra said. "So we'll have to wait a bit."

"It's a good thing we set everything up for the baby early," Bulma said. "This is all happening so fast! I can't wait to see you two when you get back and the little angel."

"Alright, we'll see you soon, Mom. Bye!"

Malachi gave her a farewell, as well as Jensen from the backseat yelling out his. No sooner had the call ended, Malachi called up Derek once again to get rid of the ruckus that was apparently at the Briefs residence. Derek would call him later once the coast was clear.

* * *

 **Quint was forced to find out about what was happening in Malachi's life through the media.** Sadly, this had become the norm. The boy hardly called him for anything. He had his last name and they were considered family, but only on paper. In reality, their relationship was quite strained. Quint missed having him around the house. He was always a happy child despite everything. No matter what terrible thing happened, setbacks after setbacks, he remained enthusiastic and hopeful. His smile could light up a room. His once pure innocence made even a hard man like Quint want to protect him. He tried his hardest to do so in the best way he could: controlling every aspect of his life. It was much harder to do now, but that didn't stop him from trying.

Quint knew Malachi's primary care doctor, Connor Murran, and he'd worked out a deal with the man to always fill him in on the details whenever Malachi decided to pay him a visit. He hadn't heard much from Connor in a while, but since he'd recently referred Malachi to him again, he'd gotten a bit of news from him. Today, they'd discuss the details at lunch. It was Sunday and it was the only day in the week when he wasn't inundated with producing music or managing other artists.

Needless to say, Quint was paying Connor handsomely for his obvious breach of privacy. Malachi being an adult and paying for his own medical care, Quint had no legal right to Malachi's patient information. Connor was an honorable man, but he could be bought at a price which made him invaluable. He was the last string that tied him to Malachi at all. Though Quint could easily call Malachi—the boy habitually ignored him much to his annoyance.

Quint chose a low-key mid-class café to meet Connor. Ever punctual, Connor was already there by the time he walked through the door wearing another one of his snazzy black suits and flat caps. The doctor was already sipping on a cup of tea as he sat down at the table. The two were amicable and they quickly said their hellos.

"So, I guess you know what I'm about to ask you—in your opinion, how do you think Malachi is doing?"

Connor took a long sip of his tea and then set his cup down. "You were right to be concerned—he was not doing well when he came to see me recently. I found multiple contusions and other injuries on his body—more than that of a typical dancer. He complained of not being able sleep and inescapable feelings of sadness. I, of course, sent him to a few specialists. I prescribed him medicine as well for the pain—stronger than what one might find over the counter. He wasn't exactly forthcoming about what he'd been up to in the past year, but he did admit to feeling a lingering pain. He seems to have gone through a lot of physical trauma judging from the excessive scarring in and outside of his body."

"Do you have any idea how he might have gotten that way?" Quint asked concerned.

"No, unless he takes masochistic pleasure from such things and it didn't seem that way."

"And in your opinion, do you think he can perform?"

"He is still young and resilient, he can perform without much issue. However, the longevity of doing such intensively, physical performances will prove taxing on anyone and especially on Malachi who has done these things for a long time. I doubt he'd be physically capable of continuing such a venture after thirty-five."

"That soon?"

"Perhaps even sooner considering the mysterious injuries he has gathered in a fairly short time."

"Is there anything that can be done?"

"The things you've already been doing is the best thing that can be done—namely having a sufficient period of rest between periods of high activity, eating healthy, and maintaining good mental health. As far as medicine has come, there is no magical cure for aging and wear and tear."

"I see then. I guess he doesn't have much time left as an entertainer."

"Might I say, his last album has skyrocketed him to being one of the most well-known musical artists of all time. He's broken countless records and received many accolades and top awards—that's more than what anyone can say for themselves. And all that, of course, doesn't come without a price. Even if he isn't performing any longer, I'm sure his name and legacy would live on long after that even after he's no longer around. Perhaps an early retirement would be a welcome thing."

Quint looked away at this. "The boy would miss it all I'm sure of it, if it came to that. It doesn't even do it justice to say that he loves music—music _is_ who he is. Without it…" he said shaking his head.

"And who says one's life has to be completely devoid of music if they're not performing on a large scale? He'll be fine. I think it would be a much-deserved break. And also, I forgot to mention, have him drink a bit more water; I'm sure his vocal chords would appreciate it considering the daunting touring that's coming soon."

"Will do, doctor," Quint said with a sigh. He wasn't exactly enthused with the information he'd received.

Thirty-five wasn't too far away for Malachi who was already in his late twenties. If he pushed it, he could get maybe two more albums out of him, but he knew that wouldn't happen. Malachi likely wouldn't be in the mood for recording until another four or five years—he'd said as much many times to him. Malachi was never one for rushing things considering all the physical work that went into making a studio album and then promoting and finally touring—he would settle for nothing less. It wasn't that Quint wanted to work the boy to death, but making music with the boy was one of the few things he took joy in. When they worked together, they would create magic and the world consumed it greedily. It almost seemed as if he had found his purpose in life after that fateful day he'd discovered the boy performing unabashedly to the unappreciative audience. Sure, he produced music for so many other artists and even managed his own up and coming artists, but none of it compared to his time with Malachi—the strange orphan who came from nowhere.

"As a standard procedure, I did take his blood so that it can be scanned for any abnormalities. We did find something quite strange."

Quint was all ears now.

"Strange mutations in his DNA that had not been there before. It has not affected his overall health, but it has endowed him with uncanny abilities—or, at least, we believe it has after testing it on other living things. Increased physical strength, increased stamina, and something else that has not been fully explored by science thus far—ki."

Quint looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "Ki?"

"A kind of visible manifestation of energy stored in one's body."

"I don't get it. If he has all of these abilities, then why are you recommending he retires so early?"

"He may possess these strengths, but it does not transform the body which wields it. Simply put, our bodies would not be able withstand it and bend and break under the immense strain. These things do not help him, but hurt him in the long run."

"I get it," Quint said with a nod, "And were we more resilient say, it would be just fine?"

"Exactly. What we've found in his DNA is nothing short of a scientific marvel. Further study is required."

"You know, this is the first time I've seen something even resembling a smile on your face."

"Rarely do we speak of things that excite me in any profound way. The implications are numerous."

"Well, keep me posted, alright?"

"As always," Connor said. He took up his cup of now cold tea and took another long sip.

Quint didn't stay much longer after ordering a Frappuccino. He'd gotten his update about Malachi. Now he could ponder over him to his heart's content. He needed to come up with a game plan that could keep Malachi performing for a longer period, but it seemed like a tall order. He'd simply have to enjoy the years he had left.

* * *

 **Vegeta Jr. now shortened to Jr. made quite the commotion once he arrived at the Briefs residence—perhaps not the baby himself, but his presence.** He was a complete and utter surprise. Though they knew Bra was pregnant, they weren't expecting a baby until a few more months, yet they had a healthy baby boy on their hands. By the time, Malachi, Bra, and Jensen had made it home, Jr. was fast asleep and he slept through everyone holding him and carrying on. Her father was there as well and he required little provocation to hold the baby at least once. Named after him, Bra suspected he had become his favorite.

Just like Jensen and Machi, Jr. was given his own room. Bra dressed him in one of the many tiny, newborn onesies they'd bought for him before putting him into his crib. Malachi was with her the entire time. For a while, she could imagine that they were back together as they preened over their newest addition to the family. Malachi and Jensen even joined them for dinner and it was just like old times. Everyone was in high spirits again in what felt like ages and she allowed herself to feel that mood.

Once the day was all said and done, Bra made it a point to halt any notions of Malachi leaving. Right after dinner in fact, she confronted him and asked him to stay. It didn't take much to convince him to do so, but he did not agree to share a bed with her. Being that there were so many rooms, he said he'd be far more comfortable sleeping separately. Bra simply allowed this without much fuss. Eventually things would change, she was sure. Having him there under the same roof after the mess she had caused was more than she hoped for.

Still as the night wore on and she laid alone once again in her bed, she felt as if she'd accomplished nothing at all. Malachi was just down the hall yet he felt like worlds away. His warmth was not beside her. She couldn't engage him in idle chat. She couldn't hold him in her arms. With a thought to bowguard her way into his bed, in the middle of the night, she made her way to his room. His door was open as it usually was and she could easily peer inside. She decided, in the end, not to enter as she found him joined by Jensen. He had his arm around the boy quite protectively and Jensen appeared quite comfortable there. Malachi was turned to his side curled a bit with Jensen with his back towards him—they were spooning one another. It annoyed her that he'd rather share his bed with a child rather than a woman. Malachi treated Jensen like he was school age despite him being a little over a year old. His age was constantly up in the air, but Bra felt that certainly he was too old to not be sleeping in his own bed.

Then again, she thought having a moment of realization as she watched the scene before him, Malachi probably didn't know any better. He had no template of a normal home life and it had just been him and the boy for quite some time. She wondered how often this had occurred. She wondered if he knew that this wasn't something that should be encouraged after a while. At some point in her life, she couldn't run into her parents' room when she was scared or lonely. Who was the lonely one in that case? Malachi or Jensen? Either way, there was nothing more she could do. She returned to her bed and eventually fell asleep.

She woke up early the very next morning, remembering that she still had a job to go to and then also remembering that she still didn't have her phone. A knock on the doorframe to her open door caused her to look up. She was pleasantly surprised to find Malachi standing there already fully dressed. How early did he wake?

"Hey, don't worry about work—Auden called me. Take it easy for a while."

Bra sat up. "Yeah, thanks. I should really get somebody to get my phone back. I feel like I'm missing all the action."

"I'll tell somebody to get it for you." He turned his head when he heard Jensen down the hall calling for him—"Daddy, you're gonna' have breakfast with me?"—"Be down in a minute," he called back. He turned back to her. "I'll see you later then."

"Wait, you're leaving so soon?" Bra asked in surprise. She wasn't used to him being an early bird.

"Recording," he said singularly. "Machi was up pretty early too—she's already been fed and changed. I'll leave Jr. to you—he sleeps a lot, but that's how newborns are for a while."

"I know. I had to take care of one for a while by myself," Bra said with a brief shake of her head.

"And who's fault was that?" he said with a grin.

Before she could say something further, he disappeared from her doorway. She decided against yelling after him. With a sigh, she laid back down on the bed. She still felt tired and worn out. She'd not recovered fully from yesterday's activities. Malachi was already gone and she probably wouldn't see him again in a long while. She'd been with him when he was in the midst of recording—sometimes it would get to the point that she wouldn't see him at all. She'd be asleep by the time he made it back.

With a sigh, she finally did climb out of bed. Her desire to see her baby outweighed her tiredness. By the time she made it to Jr.'s room, he was just awaking and she had a strong desire to cradle him.

"Feeling hungry?" she asked him.

Of course he couldn't respond, but she looked down at him. Everything was a wonder to him as he looked about in interest. His eyes were still halfway shut readjusting to the world around him. She couldn't help but smile. She wondered if anyone had prepared the formula. There was a small refrigerator nearby and she decided to check inside. There were a few bottles made up and also a note left written in the familiar fanciful handwriting of Malachi's: You're welcome, Princess. She grinned at this. Bra promptly took out a freshly made bottle and began slowly feeding this to Jr.

How early must he have gotten up to prepare all of this and have the audacity to write this note? Jensen and Malachi must have woken up together and perhaps this wasn't the first time. Maybe it was a routine of theirs. He'd gotten used to doing things completely different. She was upset about this, but she knew she really couldn't blame him. Naïvely, she thought he'd jump right back into a relationship with her and everything could return to normal. What if this was the new normal? It would be difficult now to spend much time with him. For a good few months maybe up to a year, his schedule would be hectic and busy. She'd see him a lot more on television, but she'd see him a lot less in person. The world would have him in its clutches again. Before, he had promised to make time for her. All bets were off for that after everything that had taken place. She closed her eyes in utter hopelessness. What was even the point, if he wanted to punish her? What more could she do to win his affection?

After seeing to Jr., she looked in on Machi, but Bunny had her under her wing for the day so she wasn't in her room. Bra did hear her downstairs however. Having nothing better to do and finding herself missing Malachi's presence, she entered his room out of curiosity. She could at least feel somewhat closer to him. He hadn't made this place his own yet—he'd only just occupied it yesterday on short notice. Everything was in order; the bed was fixed and the lights were off. It made it easier for her to notice the partially open drawer of the nightstand. She opened this up and was shocked to find several pill bottles there all prescribed to Malachi. She sat down on the bed and slowly read the labels completely. The implications were too much to bear: depression, anxiety, insomnia, physical pain.

"What have I done? Is this…because of me?" she asked herself.

As far as she knew, he'd not have any need for medication. The side effects which she began to read out were what scared her the most. It harkened back to her nightmare in which he died in his sleep. It seemed so impossible before, but now it was less so. Most required that he took it once a day and a couple twice. As she studied the bottles tears began to form in her eyes. She had her proof now. She'd managed to hurt him far more deeply than she'd originally believed. It was no wonder he wasn't so keen on jumping right back into things.

This couldn't continue. She couldn't bear to watch him stoop to such levels to deal with things that could be solved differently. Bra stayed in the room for only a moment longer before making her way to the kitchen to find sustenance. Food would make her feel a bit more energized. As of now, she felt quite enervated. She was relieved to smell food as she trudged through the long halls and down the spiraled stairs. Had Bunny cooked again?

At the table, she found her father who was already working on a heaping plate of food. Machi sat on a booster seat and judging from the messy table beneath her, she'd already eaten. She was clearly in a good mood as she smiled and wiggled about the chair. She was restless and ready to move around.

"Just missed him," her father said.

Bra looked at him questioningly. "Who?"

"Malachi," he said singularly.

Bra could only shrug at this. She'd at least seen him earlier even if it was for a hot second. Her father took something out of his pocket and then handed it to her—her cellphone.

"Record time," Bra said as she took her nearly battery dead phone into her hand. "Wait a minute, did you actually go all the way down to where I worked?" she asked in surprise.

"I did," Vegeta answered simply much to her horror. "I made it my life's mission to utterly embarrass you in front ofall your coworkers."

Bra hoped the other was joking. Though his expression seemed amused, it was hard to tell whether it was towards what he was spouting or the shenanigans he managed to get into at her workplace. "Seriously, Dad—"

"I was only there for a moment. Your boss had your phone and that was that."

"Did anyone else see you?" Bra asked.

His amused expression became annoyed. "Didn't realize I was some big secret."

"No, it's just—"

"Do I embarrass you?"

She became aware just then that somewhere along the line she'd likely hurt his feelings. It was just a hunch though. She couldn't be sure. Nothing really showed on his face, but it wasn't the first time she'd heard him ask such a question. At some point in her life, probably in high school, she wasn't very keen on her father showing up in public places with her. He would generally embarrass her usually unknowingly just being who he was. There were times when she just wanted to fit in and his presence was a detriment to that. Especially at work when she was trying to be on her best behavior and trying not to reveal too much about herself. In the end, it didn't matter. Being accepted by others didn't matter to her most of the time—it was only when she wasn't that it became an issue. For reasons she couldn't fully verbalize, she wanted things to work out at her job. Maybe she wanted to prove to herself that she could deal with easy, mundane things like this—maybe she wanted to show Malachi that she was responsible. It had become a bit like a competition. How long could she do the thing that no one thought she could do in the first place? She wanted to prove them wrong—whoever _they_ were.

"No, of course not," Bra said with as much as enthusiasm as she could muster, "I just didn't want to give anyone the wrong impression of me."

"Hmph, nothing of note happened while I was there. Your precious 'reputation' is intact."

Bra frowned at how he said reputation either indicating that she didn't have one to begin with or it was inconsequential—either way, she didn't like the implication. She sat down at the table and moments later Bunny came out with a generous plate of food for her.

"So nice that your cute boyfriend is back," her seemingly oblivious grandma said after placing the hot food in front of her. "He's a big help in the kitchen—sometimes it's nice letting someone else take over."

"He helped you in the kitchen today?" Bra asked. Seriously, how early did he wake? And just how much had he gotten into?

"Sure did, sweetie. He was quite lively too. By the way, should we be expecting him to stay long this time?"

"As far as I know," Bra said wearily.

"Oh, I just love it when two people fall for each other again!"

Bra sighed wearily at this. Her father continued eating, deciding not to add anything to the conversation.

"It's not like that," Bra said.

The other only giggled in response "Well, he had nothing but nice things to say about you this morning."

"Really?" Bra said in surprise.

Bunny was already pouring her a tall glass of orange juice with a broad smile. "Now eat up, honey—a mother's got to keep her strength up."

With that, she disappeared back into the kitchen. Bra looked over at her father again who was nearly finished by now.

"Is that true, Dad?"

Vegeta gave her a weary look. "More or less."

"How was he?"

"Chipper, maybe exaggerating, but one can never tell with that guy."

Bra sat back in her chair at this as her father cleaned off the rest of his plate.

"Don't think too hard about it," Vegeta said as he stood up, "Isn't worth it."

Bra decided to take his advice for a change and eventually started on the food. Even after she finished, she didn't exactly feel like running marathons. Today would most certainly be a lazy day. Seeing Machi so antsy, Bra took it upon herself to take her out the seat.

"I'm taking her up to her room where all the toys are," Bra called out to Bunny.

"Okay, honey, I'll be right up there in a little while."

That was enough for her as Bra carried the growing baby back upstairs with her. Once in Machi's room, she decided to supervise as she had nothing better to do. Machi was old enough now to crawl about on her own. After setting out the toys that Bra knew she liked the most, she sat down on the floor next to the wall charger so that her phone could begin to charge wirelessly. She flicked through her contacts before stopping on Auden Tyga, her boss. She needed to speak to him to iron out the details of her absence. She wondered if he would pick up in the morning while at work, but he answered surprisingly promptly.

"Good morning, Bra, how may I help you?"

She was taken aback by how he answered, so polite yet distant in the same breath. He'd included her name as well which was what threw her off.

"Good morning," she said back trying to maintain some type of decorum. "I just wanted to discuss what the plan's going to be for me in the upcoming days. I know you called Malachi about me not coming into work today—is there a certain time you need me back?"

"After the events of yesterday, I'm certain you'll need some time to recover as well as time to bond. Would three months be sufficient for you?"

"Three months?" Bra asked in shock.

"Is that not long enough?"

"No, it's _too_ long. What am I going to do for three months? Twiddle my thumbs?"

"Then what would be more appropriate for you?" he asked coolly.

"I don't know—a week?"

"Are you certain?"

"A week and a half?"

"Do you need more time to decide on something more concrete?"

Instead of giving her something to work with he seemed to ignore her altogether. It almost felt as if he was impatient, but it certainly wasn't coming through in the tone of his voice.

"No," she said quickly. "Two weeks and that's final."

"Alright, that can be accommodated. Maternity leave is paid as well."

"Wait, hold on—you're saying I would be getting paid for sitting on my butt all day?"

"In a sense, though I do assume you must be in some discomfort right now."

"Some, but not a lot. I read about maternity leave somewhere. How am I even qualified for it? I'm barely part-time and I haven't even been working there that long."

"You are correct, you do not technically qualify for this, but it is something CC eventually offers all their employees."

"Then why are you doing it for me?"

"It would be convenient for you."

"If no one else gets it like this, then I don't want it."

"If that would please you, I can have that arranged as well."

"Ugh, Auden. Why do you bend over so easily? Where's your backbone?"

"I do not believe this current situation requires a so-called backbone. I have no desire to upset you in anyway."

"And why is that? Because your life's goal is to make everyone in the world happy?"

"No, that would be a foolish endeavor. You are Bra Briefs—the last person I want to anger under any circumstances."

"What does that have to do with anything?" Bra asked.

There was a pause over the phone before he answered. Long enough to make Bra briefly think that he had simply ended the call.

"Do you not realize the amount of prestige you possess? Brief is almost synonymous with Capsule Corporation. Being part of that family means that you have considerable control over everyone's livelihood and the corporation itself."

Bra's eyebrows furrowed at this. "I didn't start the company—that was my grandfather."

"Then your mother became the CEO before being replaced by your brother. Do you not believe you'd receive preferential treatment?"

"Well, no. I haven't so far."

"Is that truly what you believe?"

"I wouldn't have said it if I didn't."

"Alright, then I will not argue the point."

"Please argue the point," Bra said with growing impatience.

"I do not see the merits in doing so."

"What was all that about _not_ making me upset? Well, if you deflect one more time, I'll make you regret it."

"You could, if you really wanted to. I could be fired the very next day. Perhaps even before the day is out."

"Anyone could do that," Bra argued.

"It would normally be filed as an employee complaint. It would be difficult to contact the CEO directly. I doubt you'd have such an issue."

"But I wouldn't do that."

"Would you not? How exactly did you obtain this job in the first place?"

Bra closed her eyes and shook her head. "What are you accusing me of?"

"Nothing."

"Do you think I'm just completely useless? I'm just dragging everyone else down, right?"

"I've never considered anyone being utterly without use. You are a competent employee."

"Just competent," Bra said in disappointment.

"Yes. You have suitable skills. You are properly qualified. Perhaps 'competent' has a bit of a negative connotation."

Bra sighed at this. "Sorry," she said after a moment passed. "I'm just giving you a hard time for no reason and I'm sure you have better things to be doing."

"Use this time to recover—these two weeks. If you decide at any time to change this decision whether to lengthen or shorten, you have my number. I look forward to seeing you again whatever day that may be."

He hadn't even attempted to answer her question—that spoke louder than anything he could have said about it. She was most surely wasting his time, but he would never tell it to her directly. If she so pleased, she could have kept him on the line for much longer, but she got his message loud and clear.

"Alright, Auden. I'll see you in two weeks."

"Have a nice day."

When she ended the call, she felt a bit hollow inside. Everything she was trying to prove to herself felt silly considering that everyone at the job feared annoying her and kissed her butt on a daily basis. Whether she was actually helpful or not everyone would be nice to her. Everyone would try to make her life easier. Her sense of accomplishment of maintaining this job for longer than anything else she'd done in her life felt shallow at best. She had no idea why she thought speaking to Auden, the man who painstakingly kept everyone at armlength, would make her feel better in any way. He hadn't even the slightest clue how to comfort anyone and she supposed she was looking in the wrong place for that sort of thing. In the end, she really just wanted Malachi.

Her grandmother had come in so Bra quickly made her exit so that she could be with Jr. The baby was already sleeping again. Bra sat down on the rocking chair nearby to relax. She wasn't exactly in top form and certain parts of her body was quite sore. It didn't take her long to doze off. Around noon, she woke up feeling only a little rested.

She stood and looked down into the crib at the still resting baby. If only babies could stay this easy to take care of. He would rest for long hours at this stage, a bit like a cat and could only be fed via formula. She'd decided against breastfeeding, but this made her breasts no less tender.

Eventually she returned to her seat with the intention of calling Pan. She'd likely be on her lunch and therefore available to talk. Their friendship had been a bit strained as of late. Of course, just like most of the unfortunate things happening in her life, this was her fault too. She actively ignored every one of Pan's calls and decided to avoid her completely after the terrible breakup. She hadn't felt like listening to reason back then, now she was desperate for it. When she called up Pan in what felt like ages, she answered after the third ring.

"Hello, Bra—fancy getting a call from you," Pan said jokingly.

"Yeah, I know, it's been a while."

"Just caught me on my lunch. Running a bit late today. We have some exotics in here today."

"Sounds pretty intense."

"It always is, but that's what I signed up for," Pan said happily. "Crazy how things turned out yesterday, but I'm glad all that stillborn talk was a false alarm. That's Saiyan blood for you."

"Hm, yeah. For once, it came in handy for me."

"Speak for yourself. Being a little stronger than usual definitely makes my work a lot easier. And, of course, I actually _like_ sparring."

"You tomboy," Bra accused playfully.

"Why, thank you."

Bra could practically hear the smile in her voice. "While we're on the topic of compliments—I just want to say thank you for being the caring person you always are. Thank you for being there for Malachi."

"I—well, you're welcome."

"I saw the pills," Bra said slowly. "I had no idea. Just tell me, Pan, how was he before?"

"He wasn't doing very well. I wasn't even there at first. If it wasn't for Jensen calling me and telling me everything—I'd be out of the loop. Perhaps…it's not my place to say."

"Really, Pan? There's nothing really to hide. I saw the damn pills. I know he must have been depressed and sleep-deprived. I _know_ this. I just don't know the specifics."

Pan sighed at this. "Like I said, if it wasn't for Jensen, I'd have no idea. Maybe you should thank him as well. He was just so terrified to leave his dad alone for any length of time. He was afraid that Malachi…might have been, well, suicidal."

"Suicidal?" Bra said in raised tones forgetting for a split-second that Jr. was asleep beside her. "Are you sure?" she asked in normal tones.

"I'm not a psychiatrist, I can't say for certain, but he was just so lackluster when I saw him. I'd never seen him like that before. I did everything I could to cheer him up."

"And did that work?"

"Somewhat, but not by much. Listen, Bra, it just wasn't a great time for him and with medication I was able to help him recover. That's the whole gist of it. How are you two?"

"He's here with me, but he won't even sleep in the same bed with me. I think we just need to talk."

"You could say that again."

"I get it, Pan, you don't need to throw it in my face."

"It's so it gets through your thick skull."

Bra snorted at this. "Real funny. I'm laughing hysterically. Look, I just need to know what he wants beforehand."

"What am I, some kind of cheat sheet?"

"Just tell me."

Pan sighed. "The best person to answer that question is Malachi himself, but I'll tell you this. I think he just wants you to listen."

"But I _do_ listen. How is that the thing you come up with? How is that the reason we're in different rooms?"

"Maybe you don't listen enough."

"What are you talking about?"

"Listening isn't just hearing the words the other person says—it's letting the person know you understand through action. Say for instance a person says they hate apples, but you love apples, you cook with apples every day in every meal. If you were listening, you'd either try to accommodate this fact into your cooking style and learn some new recipes or get rid of all apples in the house. The point is, something is done and it makes the person feel as if their opinion matters. It's important that both people in a relationship are willing to give and take. Without that, there really isn't a relationship in the first place."

"First, I keep hearing communication, now it's listening."

"They're both the same thing."

"Yeah…I guess so," Bra said uncertainly.

"Hey, we should chat later, I would really appreciate actually eating lunch today. Tonight, perhaps?"

"I'll just call you later. Tonight, I have something planned."

"Okay then, talk to you soon."

When Bra ended the call, she found she was left with more questions than answers. Her thoughts kept returning to the word 'suicidal'. Maybe that was what her dreams had been alluding to. Maybe he took too many pills on purpose… Could Malachi stoop to such levels? That didn't sound like him at all. Even though she saw those pills and even though Pan had described how he had been and even after Malachi admitted to some of these things before—she still couldn't believe it. It was almost as if it hadn't happened at all. Malachi wouldn't take something so hard. He could handle things like that—she had after all. She'd been a bit sad, but largely okay. Why would it be so different for him? And if that really was the case, why did he seem so hesitant to makeup? It seemed to her as she thought about things a bit longer, that she was the solution to all of his problems.

* * *

 **Time slipped by surprisingly quick that day as she found herself constantly holding or tending to Jr. Jensen came back midday and they shared a few words with one another.** It was like the boy was a complete stranger again. Instead of working on puzzles, he forever seemed glued to his phone—it was a very nice phone at that. Malachi must have gone all out for the brat. Even the few words she said to him didn't leave her with a good vibe—he didn't like her, that much was very clear.

Malachi eventually came back too and Bra made sure to send the boy to bed before that. She wanted to speak to him and she didn't want to deal with Jensen being around. She heard him come through the door and waited patiently for him to make his rounds—he even wished her goodnight as well—and then finally make himself comfortable namely taking an exhaustingly long shower and then climbing into bed. When she knew he was in his room, she slipped out of hers to visit him one last time that day. There was much that needed to be discussed. She could keep putting it off and feeling absolutely awful or get it over it. She almost always chose the latter.

Her footsteps had been quiet enough to not alert the other as she stood at the doorway. She could see easily into the dark, but Malachi was completely blind—it was pitch black aside from the glow from his cellphone nearby. He'd just taken those horrid pills and he was taking down the rest of the glass of water. One of his hands ran slowly through his hair—a rare gesture of his that he only seemed to do when he thought no one was looking. Bra assumed that he was probably either stressed or in a thoughtful mood. She couldn't be sure. He sat back against the backboard becoming predictably engrossed in his phone. Even without trying, he looked irresistible, his features perfect in her eyes. It was a shame that he should relegate himself to this room. It was a shame she wasn't free to hold and touch him like she assumed she could when he agreed to stay in the house. Was it his plan to always be so teasingly out of reach?

"Hello, handsome," Bra said brazenly as she finally strolled into the room

He was only a little startled by her entrance as he looked up from his phone. "Hello, beautiful," he replied with a grin.

She took it upon herself to sit on the side of his bed and he moved over a little for her. That was easy. No hostility. No combative words. She was simply there in close proximity to him. "I bet all those pretty girls at work fawn all over you on a daily basis. I know how it is."

"Only sometimes when someone feels the need to have such women around, but most times it's strictly work."

"Right, tell me anything."

"Unfortunately for you, women are part of the music industry whether you like it or not. I'm sure that keeps you up all hours of the night," he replied with sarcasm clear in his tone. "Such a tragedy."

"You never ask me to come with you anymore."

"Ah, yes, I should drag the woman who just had a baby to grueling recording sessions—to prove what exactly?"

Bra felt as if she was coming at this the wrong way as she leaned back onto the bed with her arms as support. "Malachi, we need to talk."

"We've been struggling with that for the past few minutes now."

"That's because you're just being difficult."

"Or because you decided to open with 'pretty girls fawning all over me at work'. Annoying at best."

Bra looked at him quizzically. "You mean those girls or me?"

"Both. Ever heard of backup singers, band members, producers?—those are fine, but others who are there for less than savory reasons start to become annoying after a while. Then there's the fact that you honestly think that I'm some horny guy who just can't help himself when other women are around even when you now know that that doesn't make sense."

"Even so—you're a still a guy and it's not like we've been all that close lately."

"No, we haven't," he said as he placed his phone on the nightstand beside him. "And I'm tired so maybe we should just pick this up later," he finished wearily.

"Seriously, Malachi? I've been waiting all day for this and you just want to put this off?"

"I've heard enough already," he said stifling a yawn.

He was already making himself a bit more comfortable as he moved down from the backboard clearly ready to bury his head in pillows and pull the covers over him. She had half a mind to rip him out of the bed and drag him to her room. Bra stood up at this.

"I know about the pills you're taking, Malachi."

"Did a little snooping?" his muffled voice said from under the covers. "I wasn't really trying to hide them anyways. Good job."

Bra was unperturbed by this. "Have you read the side effects on those things? They can't be healthy for you and they're totally unnecessary and—"

"I feel the same way," Malachi said cutting across her.

Bra was quiet for a moment before speaking again. "Then why do you take them?"

"Because reality trumps fantasy every time."

She sat down on the bed again, but then laid back upon it across his lap. From her peripherals, she saw him sit up again and she turned towards him. "I want you to throw them all away."

He snorted softly. "It doesn't work like that."

"I'm here now. We're living together under the same roof again." She moved her hand about the covers until she found one of his hands underneath. "It can be just like it was before."

He wore a grin now. "And you think you can just whisk away all my troubles."

"Yeah, I do," she said confidently. "And you can do the same for me."

"How simple the world must seem to you."

"You're the one who always has to complicate things. You're the one who decided to isolate yourself from me."

"This is far from isolation," he replied. "This is the closest we've been in a while. I get to see you every day. I get to see all my children every day. I get to see everyone."

"So…you're totally fine with it being this way? This is what you call a relationship?"

"If I only cared about my own comforts, I'd say yes, but I know you'd be absolutely miserable and, in the end, that's not what I want. So I compromise, I always compromise for you. And I don't mind doing that. There's hardly anything I _won't_ do for you. But I told myself that I couldn't just keep doing that. Something has to change or we'll only end up the same way as before. Maybe this is the only way I could get you to listen to me."

"I'm listening, okay? I came all the way to your room just so we can talk. I thought about all those things you told me on that day, about being asexual. And…I guess I just didn't know enough."

"Does it really bother you that much?"

"I guess it just doesn't make sense to me. It's hard for me to put myself in other's shoes, to think from someone else's perspective. And I didn't think it was fair how it seemed like I was forcing you to do something you didn't like. I guess…I guess I never imagined there would ever be a guy who _wasn't_ totally into me that way. To think that to someone else it's just a compromise…to think that you might not get the same things out of it as I do…It's a terrible blow to my ego, you know."

"It shouldn't be," Malachi said, "But I can understand how it might seem that way to you. Another reason why I hesitated time and again to say something. I knew you took a lot pride from that—it was something you used to define yourself."

"I never thought of it like that," Bra said, "I suppose I do use it to define myself somewhat. Of course, leave it up to you to make me start thinking about things I take for granted. All of this, it kind of changes things, doesn't it? I mean, are you still willing to…"

"Yes," he said before she could finish, "Because poor Bra would simply lose her mind without it." He reached out and ran a hand down her hair from the side.

Bra grinned at this. "You say that so nonchalantly, but it's true. And you never have thoughts like that about me…it's still a bit mindboggling."

"Even so, I do still think about you—almost all the time."

 _Well, that's good to know._ "And, is it a compromise when we share a bed or do you prefer your own?" Bra asked.

"I'd rather have someone near me."

"Then come back to bed with me."

"You're already in here. Why not stay?"

"Maybe I will," Bra said sliding a little closer to him.

She couldn't turn her head away as he gazed down at her. He beckoned her closer still as he placed a hand under her chin—the one she wasn't already holding onto. _Oh please just kiss me already_ she thought as she unconsciously bit down softly on her lower lip. He bent down and engaged her in exactly the way she wanted and she didn't let him leave too quickly as he often did on such occasions. She'd had enough of his teasing. But she needed little provocation on her end to hold him there for longer and longer. It seemed as if he was enjoying himself just as much as she was and that gave her a warm feeling. She climbed onto the bed further and pressed him back onto the bed, but it wasn't long until she found herself on her back—it seemed he wanted it that way.

It was different now even as she became enthralled by his closeness and warmth. In this instance, what exactly was he feeling? When their lips finally parted and he gazed down at her for a moment with dark unfathomable eyes, what was going through his mind? Did he see her beauty? Did he feel the same longing desire as her? Was he really moved by any of it? She felt his lips on her lower neck near her shoulder like soft butterflies caressing her skin.

"I've missed you," he admitted after he lifted his head just a little. He was only inches away from her ear.

"Me too," she said breathlessly.

She felt his lips on the other side of her neck warming her even further and making her squirm. He was moving so deliberately slow, taking in every inch of her as was his habit, taking off her clothes in the process. Did he enjoy that? Was he turned on by her?

"See?" she said drawing his eyes towards her again. " _I_ am your cure."

He chuckled a little. "It still doesn't work like that."

"Then how?" she asked despite herself as she felt his lips upon her tender breasts—it was difficult even to think straight at this point. Did he know this?

"Time perhaps," he said between mouthfuls of her.

"How much?" She grabbed a handful of his silky hair when she felt a wet tongue glide up her pelvis and a shiver deliciously crawled down her back. "How much?" she repeated when he didn't reply immediately. He made his way back up again.

"I want to focus on you—I want you to enjoy yourself," his voice rumbled in her ear again.

Bra moved her body against his so that she could feel his member only to realize that he was not at all excited at least not physically. It brought things into perspective for her even as she yearned for him to be inside her already. She began pulling his clothes off since she was already bare. She'd only started pulling his shirt over his head when a thunderclap struck outside. The two were only distracted for a moment, but they soon continued on as rain eventually began to softly pitter patter against the window—a late night storm. It was perfect.

He squeezed her breasts for good measure because he must have known that she liked that. He could place his hands wherever he wanted and she wouldn't mind in the least. She moved against him slowly and rhythmically—she couldn't help herself. He was being such a tease, building up more and more tension inside of her. He still wasn't fully extended. Why was it taking so long? But she knew the answer to that. _Just a little more_ , she thought to herself as he moved against her as well his breathing becoming a bit heavier as he found her lips again and kissed her deeply.

That was when she heard a small voice—Jensen. She hoped it was her imagination, but when she felt their kiss end abruptly as he looked elsewhere, she knew it wasn't the case.

"Jensen, go wait outside," Malachi said huskily, "I'll be right with you, okay?"

Bra heard Jensen's small fading footsteps with a grin. She pulled him back to him, but she could immediately tell that he was on a different page altogether as he climbed off of her.

"Malachi—do you really have to leave?" Bra asked in frustration. They had been so close.

"The boy's scared of thunderstorms and it's been pretty intense out there."

"You can't keep babying him like that," Bra said with a sigh, "I've been meaning to tell you that."

"But he _is_ practically a baby," Malachi said back. He was beside her now looking for his discarded shirt.

"You can't have it both ways. Either he's old enough to go to school or he isn't."

"Why must things always be black and white with you? In most cases, it usually isn't. People aren't like that. It's a balance with Jensen. Clearly, he's a perceptive kid—he has a mind that shouldn't be relegated to playing with small baby toys, but emotionally in some cases, he completely naïve. Certain things require experience, certain things do not."

"The more you try to explain, the more it stops making sense. And, of course, you always complicate things."

Malachi who was now sitting up, bent down and kissed her on the forehead. "Sorry, I really am. I just can't…leave him like that. I'd be worried about him and it's not something that I can ignore. You understand?"

"Yeah, I understand. I'm a terrible mother and you're a great dad."

"I'll be back," he said to her choosing not to even respond to her last thoughts.

With that, he was gone and she was alone once again. It wasn't like it used to be—she was silly to even begin to think that. They had other responsibilities now, things that could get in the way of their time together. These days he hardly had any free time and was it not admirable that he wanted to spend some of that time with his children? She couldn't fault him for that, but that didn't make her feel any less frustrated.

* * *

 **The wind had picked up considerably outside and the leaves rustled fiercely in the wake of a now pounding rain.** Another thunder shook the skies as Malachi stepped outside of the room now fully dressed. He looked down at Jensen who looked relieved to see him.

"C'mon, kid, let's go back to your room."

"Okay," he said back with a small smile.

There was so much ruckus outside that it wasn't until he was walking down the hall that he even heard the small cries of a baby. He knew it was Machi—the loudness of her wailing paled in comparison to Jr. For good measure before he passed Jr.'s room, he looked in and found the babe sleeping soundly completely unaffected by the chaotic weather. Seemed he could sleep through anything which was just as well. Jensen tagged along as they moved further down the hall and into Machi's expansive room. Her cries were nearly drowned out completely by the next thunderclap. He soon had her cradled in his arms.

"Shhh, it's okay," he told her softly, "It's just a storm, nothing's going to hurt you. You're okay."

He sat down in the nearby rocking chair which he secretly enjoyed more than he liked to admit. Malachi wasn't too keen on breaking out into full song at the moment—when it stormed like this he preferred quieter activities. Instead, he hummed to her softly as the chair rocked back and forth slowly. Jensen, who was a good sport, stood nearby watching Machi curiously.

"Can I hold her?" Jensen asked quietly after a while.

Machi had finally calmed down and was on the verge of falling back to sleep. Malachi considered his question.

"You have to be brave—she can sense your fear."

"I'm not scared," Jensen said back.

"Is that right?" Malachi replied with a grin. He watched the other for a moment and then decided to take him at his word. "Alright, hold your arms out."

Jensen did as he was told and eventually Malachi placed Machi carefully into his arms. He held the baby quite securely.

"She's so small and round…and super cute." Jensen said after a moment. He looked back up to Malachi with a smile.

"Most babies are," Malachi said back with a soft laugh.

"Don't worry," Jensen said looking down at the now sleeping baby, "I'll protect you."

"That's a tall claim," Malachi commented.

"I know, but I want to."

"And I certainly won't stop you," he said stifling a yawn. He realized he was quite exhausted. He'd never fought against the effects of the sleeping aid for quite this long before. The adrenaline from his previous activities had already worn off. "You want to put her back in?" he asked after a moment.

Jensen nodded to him and Malachi proceeded to lowering the gate on the crib. The boy wasn't tall enough to reach over them. Malachi watched as he gently placed her back in. It was maybe one of the sweetest things he'd seen in a while.

"Sometimes," Malachi began as he replaced the gate, "we have to put on a brave face for others even when we don't feel that way ourselves."

"I bet you don't have to do things like that."

"More often than not actually."

Jensen looked up at him with surprise.

"Yeah, I know," Malachi said with a half-smile, "I do tend to run headlong into things that maybe I shouldn't, but more and more I find myself faced with things that scare me."

They'd strolled out of the room now and was headed to Jensen's room.

"Like what?" Jensen questioned.

"Before all of this, I didn't have someone like you in my life, someone who I had a hand in creating and bringing into this world. I didn't have people I truly cared about. And I don't ever want to see any of you get hurt."

"That doesn't scare me," Jensen said looking straight ahead.

"Oh?" Malachi asked.

"Because we have this big family now and we wouldn't let that happen—at least we'd try hard to not let it happen. Isn't that all we can do?"

"Yeah, I guess you're right."

Jensen's bed was quite large just like the rest of the beds in the house so it could fit both of them comfortably. Once there, Jensen immediately crawled under the sheets, but Malachi not planning to stay for too long sat atop them leaning back against the backboard. Malachi could see the light of his cellphone under the comforters that Jensen hid under.

"I have a confession to make," Jensen said as he poked his head back out of the sheets and comforters; he eventually laid down on his back on the pillows. "I'm not really scared of thunderstorms anymore."

Malachi noticed that the other didn't even flinch when another much louder thunderclap echoed through the skies and shook the house a little. "I can see that."

"Are you mad?" he asked with some nervousness.

"No," Malachi said with a sigh, "Tell me why you felt the need to come to my room."

"To get you away from her," Jensen replied looking away from him now.

"Jensen, really? Why would you do that?" Malachi asked in surprise.

" 'Cus I don't trust her."

"Look, I know she and you have never really seen eye to eye on things, but has she ever given you a reason to think that?"

Jensen's voice became softer and weaker as he replied. "I'd never seen you like that before on that day you came and took me away from here. You were so broken. And you were crying, every night…and I couldn't stop it. It was because of her—she'd done that to you. I can't like anyone who would do that to you."

"Jensen…"

"And you wouldn't eat anything…you couldn't smile anymore…It was like you were done with living."

"I'm sorry you had to see that."

Jensen shook his head at this. "It's not your fault. I know that wasn't you. Bra _did_ that to you and here we are back here again just so we can do that all over again."

"I didn't handle things well last time—"

"That's _not_ the issue—"

"Let me finish," Malachi said. "I really didn't handle things well last time and I didn't want you to see that, but it was an impossible task trying to deal with it. I had a lot of time to think about things. I don't want you to hate her because of what you saw. It's not that one-sided. I wasn't perfect. I hid things purposefully. I wasn't so tactful in my delivery of a secret I knew wouldn't go over very well. A lot of things happened and I heard advice from others. I decided that I was willing to try this again."

"But why?"

"Because that's what relationships are all about. You have to take a chance. Nothing will ever happen if you're not willing to put yourself out on the line. I really want to make this work. And tonight…things were different, at least it was starting to be."

"So, you trust her?"

"I always have," he said. "And I think that she trusts me as well."

"Okay," Jensen said after a moment, "But does that mean I have to as well?"

"That's up to you. Things like that have to be earned. But it would mean a lot to me if you tried to."

Jensen was quiet for a while as he now looked up at the ceiling. "I'll try," he said quietly. "I'm on your side."

"Yeah, I know," he said with a grin.

"But if she ever does anything like that to you again—"

"Woh, hold on. That's starting to sound like an ultimatum."

"A what?"

"Ultimatum—a finality of consequences to someone's actions. Careful with those things. The future is more often than not unpredictable. Can you really say you will react the same way to something outside of what you're feeling right here and now?"

"Yes," Jensen said confidently. "I know I'd feel the same way if that ever happens again."

"Alright," Malachi said letting the matter the rest. "I don't think you need to worry though."

Jensen said nothing to this, but he did press a few buttons on his cellphone screen.

"Shouldn't you be trying to go to sleep? School tomorrow," Malachi reminded him.

"Yeah…" Jensen said wearily as he finally turned the screen off and then placed it under his pillow much to Malachi's amusement.

Malachi made himself a bit more comfortable in the bed even going so far as to move under the sheets in hopes of encouraging the other to finally drop off. Malachi was already stifling another yawn—they'd become a bit more frequent. It was nearly one in the morning.

"Jensen," Malachi said quietly to the other after a while. He knew the other wasn't asleep yet, "Does it make you upset that I take medicine now?"

"No—whatever makes you feel better is alright with me. I knew I really couldn't do anything to help you…I'm glad you found something else instead."

"It's not instead, it's 'as well'. You were a big help."

"I guess."

"Really. You were."

"You seem more like yourself now. I hope it stays that way."

"Me too."

"I'm not really all that tired," Jensen finally admitted after another moment.

"I noticed."

"But you can sleep here if you want. You don't have to go back."

"You sly little boy. This was your plan all along, wasn't it?" He was now dangerously close to simply falling asleep right then and there—he didn't exactly like switching beds in the middle of the night and he was already here and quite warm and comfortable.

Jensen who'd been turned away from him now switched on his other side and moved closer to him. Malachi could hardly make him out in the dark, still he was able to reach out and touch him, pull him closer to his chest. He ran his hand slowly down the back of his head rhythmically.

"Was that a yawn I heard?" Malachi said after a while—he couldn't tell how long it had been.

"Maybe," Jensen said, "But I'm not tired."

"Uh-hm, tell me anything."

Malachi had to admit that this was nice. Without the expectation of performance, without the added pressure of doing things he wasn't naturally moved to do, he could relax. He could breathe a sigh of relief. Now that he was no longer wrapped up in Bra's intense heat edging him on and on, he found his mind wasn't utterly clouded with the need to appease her. Sleep came for him rapidly under such circumstances just as he kissed the crown of Jensen's head. He'd told Bra that he would be back, but he'd become far too comfortable and he could tell that Jensen was finally resting. It would be a shame to move and ruin the moment.

* * *

 **Bra knew he wasn't coming back after an hour passed.** She sighed exasperatedly and wondered if she could nab him before it was too late. Leave it up to Jensen, the bane of her existence, to ruin the moment she'd been waiting far too long for. She climbed out of bed and made her way to Jensen's room.

Her eyes made them out quickly. They seemed intertwined with one another and deep in slumber—she'd never seen them quite so close before. It was clear to her that they shared a strong bond between one another whether they were aware of it or not. It felt as if she was constantly competing against it. Her eyebrows furrowed a little, realizing that he'd never held her like that before, not so closely, not so intimately. Perhaps his love for Jensen was stronger than the love he had for her. She could never imagine her own father holding her in such a way or even her mother. Then again, she could barely get a hug out of her father and only if she was in tears. It was silly though to compare that to this. Malachi certainly wasn't her father. He had a soft heart and he was not at all afraid of sharing his emotions with others—it was refreshing, but also hard to get used to. However, just like her father, Malachi really had no idea what a father should be like and had only his own instincts. This was how it presented itself. Bra didn't have the heart to breakup something so sweet even though such a level of closeness was outside of the norm for her.

For this night, Malachi had found more comfort with his son than he did her.


	60. One Day

**When Malachi awoke in the morning time, he immediately knew that the sun was too high in the sky.** He'd overslept. He looked over to where Jensen might have been and found the bed completely empty. Why hadn't Jensen gotten him up like he usually did? It didn't matter now anyway—he was already embarrassingly late and there was really no need to rush. At first mildly panicked, he fell back onto the bed and closed his eyes for a little while longer. Finally, he forced himself to sit up and moved to the side of the bed.

"Knock, knock, sleepyhead," Bra said at the entrance.

His eyebrows furrowed a little at her chipper countenance. She held a tray of breakfast food in her hands. He wondered briefly if he was still stuck in some weird dream. "What?" he asked confused. "What's the occasion?"

Her smile widened. "For once, me and Jensen agreed on something—you should rest, you've been working really hard lately," she said as she stepped into the room.

"That's hard to believe—you and Jensen," he said slowly. He watched as Bra placed the hot, steaming food on the bed beside him. "I'm sorry, I'm already late—I can't stay for all this."

"Oh, yes you can," Bra said with some cheerfulness still in her tone. "You're not going to skip breakfast just so you can run off to those slave drivers again. Eat and _then_ you can go."

"Well, alright, if you insist," he said relenting. The smell of Bunny's cooking hitting his nose convinced him further.

There was a stack of buttery soft pancakes dressed in syrup and confectioner sugar along with scrambled eggs, sausages, bacon, a bowl of strawberries and grapes, and a glass of cold milk. Quint would be horrified at how full and calorie-rich the breakfast was, but Malachi knew he would eat all of it without a second thought. He loved pancakes. Just in case he was still dreaming, he had to make sure the food was real. Upon tasting a slice of the pancake and basking in its richness—he knew this was reality.

"Oh, and here's your phone fully charged. You've gotten a lot of calls from a certain person. He apparently doesn't know what a missed call means." Bra took out his phone from her back pocket and handed it to Malachi.

Seeing thirty missed calls, Malachi knew he couldn't wait to call the man. He'd forgotten the pancake already in his mouth even as he did this and answered Quint's irate "Finally!" with a "I'm really sorry," that was impeded and muffled by a near full mouth of food. It didn't help his case at all.

"Boy, are you eating? Get off your ass and get in here already! I've never seen such blatant unprofessionalism before! And that better be granola or wheat—something healthy!"

"Yeah, something like that," Malachi said after he quickly swallowed what was in his mouth. "I overslept again. Sorry. I'll be there soon, alright?"

"And you were doing _so_ well for a while now. I thought you were ready to take things seriously. We're about to put out the first single and we need to figure out which one—you need to sign off on it. You got thirty minutes, boy."

"Thirty minutes," Malachi repeated.

But he wasn't really all that affected by Quint's frustration. Bra had told him to eat breakfast and he was not so keen on skipping it if it was already sitting on his lap.

"Not much time," Bra commented, "Maybe I should help you." She'd taken the fork from his hand and taken a dainty chunk of the pancake onto it. "Now open up."

Malachi looked at her with a raised eyebrow, but then obeyed her and bit down upon the fork when it was in prime position.

"See? That wasn't so hard," Bra said with a grin.

"What's gotten into you today?" Malachi asked with genuine curiosity.

She took up a grape from the bowl with her hand and then placed it upon his lips for him to accept which he did. "I thought you liked this sort of thing."

"Not particularly."

She took a strawberry into her hand and took half of it into her mouth, licking it a little before feeding it to him—he accepted this as well. "Are you sure?"

"Oh, I'm sure," he said with a grin. "At this pace, I'll be here all day."

"Now that doesn't sound like such a bad thing."

She had a grape betwixt her lips and she passed it to him when she pressed her lips against his. He bit down on it and it was as if she wanted to share in this as he found a wandering tongue inside his mouth, but it didn't stay for long and he was finally able to swallow. He knew exactly what was on her mind.

"I can't stay," Malachi said to her steadily. "And it would be a shame if I never finished this breakfast you brought me."

"It would be," she said with a sigh. "Can I come with you?"

"How about we give it another week for you? I'd feel better about it."

"Alright. I'll hold you to it."

"Really? You're not going to demand sooner?"

"Do you want me to?" she asked with a grin.

"No," he said as he took the fork from her hand. "Have you eaten, by the way?"

"Actually, I haven't." The grin hadn't left her face.

"Oh no, how could we remedy that? Maybe you could help me with all this food," he said as he cut into the pancake again. This time he fed her, sliding the fork into her mouth.

Malachi knew he wouldn't make it to the studio in thirty minutes with Bra acting this way and him liking this fact and probably encouraging her too much. Breakfast took entirely too long to finish only for him to realize that he hadn't taken his pills yet—it was already ten in the morning. Bra, in rare fashion, offered to take the food back downstairs—she insisted. This left Malachi free to throw something on and look halfway presentable. When he went for his pills after he was dressed, however, he realized that they were all gone. He stared at that empty space for ages before Bra's voice brought him back to the present.

"I threw them away," Bra said.

He turned to look at her completely flabbergasted. "Why?" he asked distressingly.

"You don't _need_ them. I already told you. You have me."

He went from surprise, confusion, and then acceptance as he continued to look at her. "Well…" he said after a long moment, "I guess we'll just have to see."

"You'll be fine," she said with a smile, "Now get going. Don't want to be late."

Malachi looked at her wearily. "Yeah, I would hate that."

He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek before rushing out of the room, down the long spiraling stairs through the various rooms and finally outside. Instead of driving, he opted to fly knowing that he needed to get there as soon as possible. Quint was already calling him again.

* * *

 **It had felt liberating dumping all his dreadful pills.** She couldn't bear to see him take them again. The very thought of him needing such a thing marred the image she had of him in her head. This was the guy who could go toe to toe with her father for a short while—a human no less. This was the guy who didn't break in half if she touched him too hard. He was brave, fearless, and sometimes even rash. That kind of person didn't need medicine not when she was in his corner. She didn't plan on ever leaving it again. She would make him strong again.

Today would be another long day despite spending some time with Malachi in the morning, she still sorely missed him and dealing with kids all day did nothing to stave this. Jr. made a valiant effort, but it wasn't as if she could hold conversations with him. Eventually, she gathered Jr. and Machi into the same room and turned on the radio. Machi could easily entertain herself these days and she was always in a good mood as long as music was playing. She turned to a pop station and had it on for hours. Though she had Jr. lying down on a bed of soft blankets, she also picked him up and held him. For the short time periods he was actually awake, she even allowed him to spend some time on his tummy.

She was hoping to hear Malachi on the radio knowing that eventually he would be coming out with his new single. She heard one of his old songs at some point, one where he'd been a child. It always brought a smile to her face knowing that she now knew that person. She'd grown up hearing him singing never thinking that she'd meet him in person and never being particularly interested in doing so. It was as if he'd always been a part of her life, always singing to her. She wondered how it must have been like being in the limelight, always being watched by the media, by everyone, always performing. What kind of childhood had that been? What memories did he cherish or were they all captured on video?

Later on that day, she heard Malachi again, but this time it was a completely unfamiliar song, a slow ballad—something he hadn't done in some time. Midway through the first verse, however, a woman began singing as well and that voice struck her as familiar, so familiar in fact that she decided to use her phone to identify the song. That was when Bra saw Marron's name as clear as day.

"This must be some kind of joke," Bra said to herself as she continued to listen. "What is this?"

She changed the station quickly and then called Marron.

"I guess every day is a day to get on my nerves. What do you want, Bra?"

"Well, hello to you too. It's been a while."

"Yeah. Isn't it great?"

"Alright, Marron, I'm just going to be straightforward with you. Did you record a song with Malachi?"

"Yeah, I did, a while ago."

"It's on the radio."

"I know. Malachi called and said that he'd chosen this one to be his first single off that album he's working on."

"What the hell, Marron?"

Marron sighed exasperatedly. "What's the matter? Mad I didn't ask permission from his keeper?"

"He's my boyfriend for crying out loud, soon to be my husband. Why would you do this?"

"Hm, I see he came running right back to you. Couldn't say no. Bra, I won't get into this with you because it's boring and stupid. It's just a song like many of his others about love. Think of it like it's art."

"So that's why he knows about you—because you guys have _really_ been hanging out. If it isn't Pan, it's you, always trying to annoy me to death."

"Oh please, Bra, you're far less important than you think you are. Nobody does things with you in mind—they have their own personal reasons. You're a side note in most people's lives."

Marron's words could often be biting, but she was quite frosty today. Bra wondered why she even bothered with her anymore.

"And you think you're any better?" Bra said back.

"Oh, I know I'm not. The difference is, I'm not in denial about it. I'm going to hang up now because I'm already tired of talking to you. Maybe call me later when you've come back to your senses."

The call ended before she could say anything further and Bra didn't feel like dealing with the other's pissy mood. After all, _she_ was the one who'd just had a baby—she didn't need that kind of stress right now. She'd ask Malachi when he came back that day.

Malachi didn't come back until late, almost around eleven and he'd missed dinner which she'd been looking forward to having with him. He'd eaten with others that day as time had gotten away from him. Still, it was better than the alternative, at least he came home at all. At least he considered this place to be his home.

As he always did, he checked on the kids before taking that ridiculously long shower and returning to his room still wet and dripping and, of course, a total tease. She had been there when he entered his room. He must have recognized the kind of looks she was giving him as he grinned at her and shook his head as if to reprimand her naughty thoughts. He didn't seem to mind that she was there either. Perhaps he was coming to expect it.

"How was your day?" he asked her.

"Boring," she said as she watched the other rummaging through the dresser for some nightclothes.

His nightwear consisted solely of silly print pajama pants and white T-shirts. He soon had these on much to her annoyance as she'd been enjoying the view. Eventually he sat down on the side of the bed. She currently took up the center of the bed sitting with her legs slightly drawn up—she wore a pair of red lace boy shorts and a blue oversized crop top.

"Uneventful, huh?—that doesn't sound so bad," he replied.

"I had Machi to keep me company."

"Now I'm jealous," he said as he took up his phone.

"And what about you? I'm sure you were plenty busy."

"Plenty," he said back, "We're already working on a new music video."

"Really?" Bra said surprised. "You're gonna' do a video with Marron?"

Malachi turned towards her a little when she said this—he had an amused look on his face. " _That_ slow ballad? It's nice and all, but not exactly the thing that needs a whole video and it doesn't fully represent what I'm trying to do with this album. No, the video is gonna' be the title track and"—he began clicking his finger in a set tempo, in what she assumed was the song he was thinking about at the moment—"up-tempo and exciting. I mean, if people aren't clicking their fingers to it, it's not a title track and I'm supposed to be a pop artist, right?"—his fingers ceased clicking at this point—"Quint thought it was a good idea to 'test the waters' and come out with something familiar first."

"Oh, I see," Bra said. "You didn't tell me you were doing a song with her."

"Yeah, I did a song with her, a while ago. Remember before, after that coma and I was trying to figure who it was I'd heard when I first woke up?"

"So it was Marron the whole time."

"Yep and I probably would not have known it until I heard her sing again at that karaoke bar. The moment I heard that, I knew I wanted her on my album. Anyways, it all worked out quite well," he said returning to his phone, "I think she really enjoyed it and if it does well, which I hope it does, that would end up helping her even more, you know. I'm sure it'd feel better being able to make money off your own hard work rather than someone else's charity. And from what I can tell, she needs all the help she can get."

"That's…well, that's good for her."

"Woh, don't blow me away with your enthusiasm," he said with obvious sarcasm. "I'm guessing you two don't get along that well."

Her lips pursed a little at this. "I called her earlier—she wasn't all that friendly."

"Hm, maybe you rubbed her the wrong way—she doesn't seem to take a lot of BS."

"Really? You think it's _my_ fault she was like that on the phone with me? She's always been like that. I can only stand her when she's not talking to me or if Pan's around."

"You've known her longer—I'm sure you know better," he said in relenting tones.

"You only met her for a short while and you're already making assumptions about her."

"I don't want to get into it."

"Are you defending her? You've known _me_ longer."

"I have known you for a while now and I know how you can be. I know how you jump to conclusions. What if—just what if, Marron's poor mood today had nothing to do with you? What if she was just having a bad day? Maybe she just needs someone to talk to. I wouldn't take it personal."

"Nothing to do with me," Bra said, "You two are singing the same tune—pun intended. Thing is, Malachi, she doesn't talk to me, she just says rude things and hangs up."

"Maybe you should do that thing that you don't like to do."

"What thing?"

"Apologize."

"Tch, apologize? For what? I didn't do anything wrong."

"That doesn't matter at the end of the day."

"Doesn't it?"

"Not if you're going under the assumption that you're just as fallible as the next person and it's impossible to always know if you're right or wrong. What matters is finding a way to be on the same page with each other, and understanding what went wrong."

Bra was quiet for a moment and she noticed that the other had stopped making motions on his phone. "Is that why you always apologize even when it seems silly to do it? We both know that I was the one who messed up."

He turned towards her again, this time lifting one of his legs over the side. "Partially. I don't want you to spend your days blaming yourself over spilled milk—it's not good. You might wind up like me, unable to pick yourself back up again. It's a terrible feeling thinking you're the one who ruined everything. We're in this together so we shouldn't have to go through things by ourselves. And for what it's worth, I don't really fault you for what happened. It was a lot to take in all at once."

Only a subtle smile graced her face. He was being so nice. He was being so understanding. It made her feel all the worse—she didn't want to dwell upon it. All that was in the past. They were starting over now though she felt as if Malachi was a bit more hesitant now. He was distant when he hadn't been before. She couldn't quite put her finger on why she felt that way, but that feeling was there nonetheless.

"Alright," he said after a moment, "I'm going to try and get some sleep. It's getting late. Are you staying in here?"

"If you don't mind," she said with a small smile waiting for him to proclaim that he was annoyed with her and that he needed space.

"I don't mind," he replied without even a hint of uncertainty.

Why then did he insist on sleeping in a separate room? Why was he making this so much harder? Why did he always have to make her feel as if she was doing something wrong? Was she missing something?

He switched off the lamp and then slipped into bed without further ado. She'd already moved over so that he could have room. Unlike yesterday, she kept her distance as she too joined him under the covers.

Bra found herself staring up at the ceiling as if waiting for the other to fall asleep yet that time didn't come. He was turned away from her, but she knew he was awake.

"How was it like today without that medicine?" Bra asked as a thought came to her.

He didn't answer immediately which made her a bit nervous. "Not so well…but I can manage."

Bra hadn't expected this at all. "What do you mean?" she asked concerned. "Was it really that bad?"

"I couldn't wait for the music to start once I got in today. I think I was really getting on people's nerves. Being that late, asking so much from people. I wanted everything just right or else…" he paused on his thought as if remembering who he was talking to. "It's nothing you need to worry about."

"If you worry about it, then I need to hear it."

"It's just studio drama. I don't know how comfortable I feel bringing you along this time."

Bra's eyebrows furrowed at this. She'd been looking forward to that. It was one of the few opportunities she got to ever see him in his element and now it probably would have accounted for the most time she got to spend with him. "I'm not a china doll—I don't break easy."

"I know," he said. His voice had grown quiet. "Just, things can get a little intense. Everyone's on edge. Everyone's feeling the pressure this time. I don't know if I'll be able to pull off the kind of sales they're hoping for."

"Is that doubt I hear?"

"No, just plain old reality. The bar's set pretty high. I'll just have to do everything I can. I need to focus more. I wouldn't be able to do that with you there. Not how things are now between us."

"And how are things between us?"

"We're still working things out. It's not really the best time to do all that. I hardly see you each day."

"And you decided it'd be a good idea to sleep in separate rooms."

"We'd be forcing things otherwise, pretending everything's alright, when it isn't."

"Well then, tell me what's wrong."

"It's not that simple."

"You always say that."

"Because it isn't. Not everything can be put to words or placed into neat little containers. We…need time to get used to each other again."

"I'm used to you. You're used to me."

"Does it really feel that way? Do you really feel as connected to me as you once did?"

"Well…yeah. I think. Why wouldn't I be?"

"I think we both know what that feels like. And I think we both know that it's not really like that anymore."

Bra was still staring up at the ceiling. She was blinking away the burning sensation in her eyes. "You still love me, right?"

"I do. That hasn't changed."

"You still want to marry me?" she asked softly.

Her stomach began to twist a little when he didn't respond immediately. In fact, a very long moment passed when he said absolutely nothing at all as if he was deliberating with himself. What was there to think about? Marriage, at least, still had to be a given.

"One day," he said finally.

"Excuse me," she said in a sharp tone. "One day? What does that mean? In another ten years? A century? You want me to wait that long?"

"You don't have to wait," he said with a sigh, "You can do whatever you like, Bra—isn't that how you do things? I'm sure you could marry any man you pleased if you wanted."

"Idiot. I want to marry _you_ and not anyone else. We have kids together. I mean, we should already have done this ages ago."

"I will love those kids whether we're married or not, whether we live together or not. That isn't a good enough reason to rush into things."

"Rushing?" Bra said with a laugh.

"I don't even…feel like myself anymore. I'm just all over the place. I'm not even tired right now even though I've been working for hours. It's not like I can spend very much time with you and soon I'll be completely out of the area, traveling everywhere, performing everywhere day after day for a very long time."

"How long? A few months, right?"

"Fourteen months, maybe more. We haven't worked out all the details yet," he said, "I've already gotten a strong sponsorship from a huge beverage corporation. It's not going to be a walk in the park."

"I mean, you don't _have_ to do all that, right, if you don't want to."

"Promoting my album? You honestly think that's optional?" he said with a chuckle.

"I hate when you laugh at me like that—I just wanted some clarification."

"Sorry," he said quickly. "It just sounded ridiculous to me. But, yes, promotion—good thing. No promotion—bad thing. Not enough promotion—still a bad thing."

"I might just throw one of these pillows at you. I'm not stupid."

"No, but you don't know everything. Scary thought, I know," he said with sarcasm reaching his tone.

"Just keep pushing it," Bra warned.

"I will," he replied unperturbed.

"What am I saying?—you love being challenged."

"Seriously, though, touring isn't exactly the highlight of my career. It's good—it means people recognize you, it means people want to hear your music and makes a lot of people happy, it makes a lot of money, but, man is it tiring. If it wasn't so necessary, I'd probably skip the whole thing."

"But you can't," Bra said in understanding, "Your music means too much to you. And I know that you work hard at it."

"Yeah and it takes up a lot of my time. I don't want to rush things with you. I don't want things to feel ingenuine. I want it to be perfect."

"There's no such thing as perfect," Bra said.

"Sure, but that doesn't mean one should stop reaching for it."

Bra sighed exasperatedly at this.

"But after that. After things have settled again—we'll have our time," he continued.

"Is this how it's always going to be like? On and off seasons? There will just be times when I don't see you at all?"

"I can't do this forever—being an entertainer. I don't think I'm capable of doing it non-stop. So, no, it won't always be like that. There will be an end."

"That's crazy to think about," Bra said after a moment. "What else will you be?"

"I don't know. I'm not one to plan everything out."

"Well, I suppose I'll hold off on the 'let's get married already' talk."

"Really?" he asked.

"I'm not some desperate girlfriend, you know. I mean I would like it, but I can't force you and I don't want to. And I want us to be on the same page again—like you said. Doing all this now, how things are with your schedule; it's just better to wait."

"Thank you," he said after a moment.

She could hear the relief in his voice. She hadn't realized until then how much her understanding meant to him. Still, he hadn't turned her way and he seemed in no hurry to.

"Do you think you can get some sleep now?" Bra asked.

"I doubt it. I'm just not tired. I guess I'll just pretend."

"Do you think…I shouldn't have thrown your pills away?"

"I hated relying on them. It was just a means to an end. Quint had me go see the doctor when I didn't want to in the first place. I know he was only trying to help, but still…I can manage. I should be able to."

"Alright…just don't push yourself too hard, okay?"

She was starting to regret her decision about the medicine. Maybe he really needed them. It wasn't as if she was a doctor. And what was all that about not feeling like himself? He hadn't expounded on it and she hadn't wanted him to. She closed her eyes at this. Just another example of her doing things without considering the consequences. _She_ was the cure? _She_ was the thing that would make him feel better? She really had no idea what exactly was wrong with him anyways. She'd always felt that way. She knew him and then she didn't know him. Every time she tried to simplify things with him, he would always add complexity. Maybe it wasn't nearly as tangled and confusing as he made things sometimes—maybe it was just all in his head.

As she was starting to fall asleep as time wore on, she knew the other was hopelessly restless as she heard him switch positions multiple times. It was tiring just to listen to. Then at some point, when she was awakened by his movement again, he climbed out of bed and left the room completely. She laid awake waiting for him to return, but he never did. She sensed him in Jr.'s room. His energy felt languid finally. Perhaps he was actually asleep. By then, it was three in the morning. It wouldn't be long until he'd have to start the day. Three hours simply wasn't enough. Bra walked over to the baby's room and saw Malachi in the rocking chair with Jr. held securely in his lap. His head was bowed; he was at least dozing. Carefully, she took the sleeping baby from his grasp and placed him back in the crib.

"Hmm…Bra…" he said causing her to turn and look at him sharply. "No…the red ones…the red onions…" She bent down a little to make sure he was actually asleep. His eyes were closed and his breathing was deep and steady—she should have known better. It wasn't as if this was the first time she'd heard him say nonsensical things in his sleep.

She was afraid to wake him so she didn't bother with trying to move him back to his bed though she was sure he'd be pretty sore in the morning.

* * *

 **Malachi was gone by the time she woke up the next morning.** It was the first of many, many restless nights. When she watched him closely, he'd only sleep in short snatches and when she asked him about it, he only became annoyed with her. Never did he bring up the fact that he'd been fine with the medicine—she did bring it up, however, but he refused to take the medicine prescribed to him. Bra regretted ever throwing them away.

At the very least, he seemed fine. Music videos began to come out along with single after single. He planned on releasing most of his album. His music was played almost non-stop on the radio—he ruled the airways. Everyone knew who Malachi was and if they hadn't before, they definitely did now. She watched as his music placed number one on a multitude of charts and even the most prestigious ones. Five of his songs on one album were all certified, smash hits. They couldn't get enough of him. And Bra along with the rest of the family watched his videos as soon as they were released. It was art. It was pure art. Each music video brought life to the music, it was like watching a feature length movie all in the span of ten minutes even though it was just a single song.

Bra made sure Jr. and Machi heard it all even if they didn't understand everything, even if some of the subject matter was provocative. Jensen could appreciate it more and Bra could tell that he loved everything that his father did no matter what.

Paparazzi showed up on their property more and more. It became a routine for her father to send out a few warning shots with his ki every morning. It only became worse as the weeks bore on. All eyes were on Malachi, it seemed, and she began to see less and less of him. Soon, he no longer came back home at the end of the night. She couldn't see him for those short hours of the night. The world had him in their grasps and they were not ones for sharing.

* * *

 **AN:** I know you're shocked to see this here—haven't done an author's note in a while. Imagine some crazy lady locked away in her room feverishly writing on one story—alright, maybe I'm being a little dramatic, but I do feel as if this is all that my life has been for a while. And I don't mind it—it's been a fun ride. It's a guilty pleasure. Kudos to anyone who knows what real life pop star that inspired Malachi's character. Anyways, I have three to four more chapters left and then I can finally end this. I'm going to be focusing more on Malachi and Bra now, otherwise I'd be writing forever trying to flesh everyone out. I look forward to another four weeks of writing. Hope everyone's been enjoying this as well.

And thank you to all who have reviewed. They definitely keeping me going each week.


	61. Neglect

**A year came and went, but it was a long one for Bra.** She felt like the wife of a soldier who'd gone off to war and wouldn't return for a very long time. She had to remind herself that he was fine—he wasn't 'at war' he was just touring, he was just performing for his fans. Even if it was a fact that the more popular one became, the more of a target one became, Malachi was no normal human. He could protect himself when it came down to it. In this instance, she was glad her father had trained him so extensively as well as Tien.

She wasn't wholly without contact with him. When he could, he'd video chat with her and the rest of the family. He'd call her if all else failed, but it wasn't every single day on a set schedule. Though he said it was possible to fly all the way back home and then fly back in time, he admitted to not having the energy for all that. This concerned her, but she didn't press the issue. Even more than that, too many eyes were on him almost every second of the day. His security needed to be there or else too much suspicion would arise. It wouldn't look right for a celebrity who could easily attract throngs of adoring of fans just by his mere presence to not have some form of protection or that he took on that task himself. Sure, people had seen him at the world tournament, but that was a gimmick at best.

He did come home eventually and it was a quiet affair. Everything was in secret. Just after the sun had gone down, Bra was able to hold him in her arms again and everyone had been there to greet him. It hadn't been a loud rambunctious celebration, but a quiet close friends and family gettogether—one of her mother's most low-key events yet. Malachi had been tired, but happy to see everyone. Marron along with her boyfriend Lucas had been there. Pan, Trunks, Terri, and Astor had joined as well. Bra wondered only briefly why Auden had not been around and her mother explained that he didn't do well with crowds. Jensen was glad to see Astor which didn't surprise Bra in the least. In the past year, Astor visited almost every weekend to play with Jensen and the two spent long afternoons either playing video games or completely made-up games outside on the big property. Auden would always drop her off and he would always decline joining them for dinner or anything for that matter. He was an odd one; Bra couldn't help thinking that about him despite working for him for over a year now.

Bra could tell that Malachi hadn't wanted to be the center of attention on that day and she had felt a bit more protective of him, watching him like a hawk, making sure he was fine and that people didn't engage him too much in questions. He seemed more interested in knowing what everyone else had been doing for the past year rather than discussing his own stories about what one might assume an exciting year.

She was glad when everything finally started to wind down and Bra could spend some time alone with him. She'd brought him to her room and he didn't seem to mind. They'd barely stepped into it when she found herself wrapped up in his arms and his hold was quite firm. He did nothing more but hold her without saying a word. She didn't mind, however. She craved his closeness and it seemed he did as well.

"I've missed you," she said quietly.

"I've missed you too," he replied with a note of desperation to his voice.

They stayed that way for another minute and it was Bra who decided that perhaps they should move this to the bed. It sounded like he was in the midst of falling asleep altogether as she felt his energy mellowing and his breathing deepening. She helped the half-asleep man over to the bed and let him fall upon the softness of the mattress and sheets. He winced a little as he touched down and Bra picked up on that immediately.

"Are you alright?" Bra asked as she climbed in bed alongside him.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just a little sore."

"Oh," she said slightly surprised. "Where at? Maybe I can help."

"All over," he said wearily, "Don't worry about it."

He made himself only a little more comfortable as he moved the rest of his body upon the bed. Bra laid down beside him on her back and placed a sympathetic hand upon his chest. She didn't initiate anything further with him—he was clearly exhausted. He didn't bother taking a shower or putting on nightclothes, he simply fell asleep. She wasn't really upset about it. In fact, she couldn't stop herself from smiling. They were back together in their bedroom and he was not troubled by restlessness as he had before. All that seemed to have passed. Maybe just maybe, things could get back to normal.

* * *

 **He moved a little slower and he was certainly in a lot more pain than he was letting on.** She went out of her way to make things for him that would help with such things or else she asked Bunny if she knew any herbal remedies for soreness and pain. She'd found a few recipes off the internet. She fibbed a little telling him that she was bored and wanted to try out some new drinks. She could only hope that this was helping him.

Though she could see him every day now, they weren't spending as much time together as she thought. He seemed more concerned with Jensen, Machi, and Jr. He'd admitted to missing her, but it was looking like he'd missed them a bit more. She couldn't go anywhere with him without him taking at least one of them with him. At night, they were all he would talk about. Jensen did that, Jensen did this. Machi's understanding more things. Little Jr. is super cute. Bra couldn't really fault him for this. It had been awhile, but she didn't want to just talk about them.

The roles seemed to have switched between them. He stayed at home all the time taking care of the kids and she worked at CC still in her old position, but with more responsibilities and more hours. Over the past year, she'd gained more and more knowledge and responsibilities and she'd asked for more hours to fill in all that free time she had. She would have gone crazy forever pining over Malachi, she had to put her mind on other things. Her job eventually consumed a good chunk of her time and she found that she enjoyed it. That still hadn't changed even now since Malachi had returned. She was now the one who worked and he stayed at home. It was a nice change of pace to always come home to Malachi. He would always be there without fail.

She found herself growing closer to him as another month passed of this routine. They spoke more often to one another, she spent so much more quality time with him and he seemed a great deal more relaxed. They were in love again. It was just like they had just met. She learned more about him, about his sexual preferences. Bra came to realize the hard truth that there was nothing that could ever "turn him on". Instead, all she could hope to do was put him in the right mood. He enjoyed her closeness. He enjoyed kissing, hugging, and cuddling. He was very romantic—he loved wining and dining her, and taking her out on expensive dates. He liked the challenge of always trying to keep a smile on her face and keeping her in a good mood. In a nutshell, he was romantically, sensually, and emotionally attracted to her and not, of course, sexually or aesthetically. The latter was the hardest to get used to for her. All that time she spent in the mirror trying to look beautiful and fashionable had no effect on Malachi. Though he always made it a point to compliment her on these things it was solely because he knew that she liked compliments and being noticed rather than genuinely appreciating these things himself. When she pointed this out to him one day, he told her that it would be a shame for her to stop caring about such things on his account: "Do the things that will make you happy—you don't need me to validate that." It was oddly empowering knowing that despite being in a deep relationship with another, there were things that she did simply for her own benefit. She wasn't forced into it or constantly pressured to look nice, it was just something she liked to do and he would support her either way. In fact, knowing this, she became a bit more adventurous in her fashion. At the same time, she found herself less self-conscious about herself and more willing to wear things based on comfort if she happened to not be going anywhere specific. No one would judge her, leastly Malachi.

As far as sex went, it was easier to perform at night rather than at any other time. Music would not help at all as it excited him in completely different ways. When it was quiet and dark and she was pleading, that would be the perfect time. Lately, however, they'd not done any such activities even after a month had passed. He'd been recovering physically from the long touring so she had given him a free pass, but as the next month began to roll by and nothing occurred, she became a bit more anxious, but not as much as she had been before. He showered her with attention and the children were always so happy. But more than that, everyone in the house seemed happier. There was an air of exuberance that had not been there in a long while. The world was at peace and Malachi was home.

For as long as she'd been alive, she'd never seen Bunny actually share the kitchen with anyone else when she was cooking. It was unstated law that if Bunny occupied that particular room, then it was off-limits to anyone else until she was done with it. Almost everyone seemed to have their "room" for that matter. For her father, the gravity room. For her mother, her basement lab. For Bra, the room that housed her extended collection of clothes. For her grandfather, his own lab which had its own separate building. Yet things were different now.

Most evenings, Bra noticed that both Malachi _and_ Bunny cooked dinner at the same time. It was a harmonious arrangement for the two. She'd heard from her grandfather later that Bunny was quite appreciative of his help and felt far less burnt out at the end of the day which in turn allowed them to do more things together—Bra had no idea that Bunny was capable of getting exhausted doing such things, but it made sense—she was only human. She had simply been really good at hiding it and it was not in her nature to complain.

She knew that her father and Malachi were spending time in the gravity room together training as they talked about it sometimes at the dinner table. She'd never known her father to be so willing to share that room with anyone other than Trunks and now they spoke of it casually and they used that room with surprising frequency. It was nice to know that he was still exerting himself physically—Bra found she preferred a more toned Malachi.

Her mother admitted to liking Malachi's sporadic visits to her lab. Sometimes, she even looked forward to them. She would often use him to bounce ideas off of. He wasn't scientifically minded, but he was quite logical and his mind worked in ways different from her colleagues. He was uniquely creative and she would often figure out unorthodox solutions to problems she'd been working on for weeks after hearing his thoughts and opinions on the matter. Getting ideas from a different perspective was always a good idea when she was stumped, but getting ones from Malachi's perspective was a special treat.

Her family had accepted him long ago and it had seemed to happen organically. As strange and reclusive as she knew her family was compared to others, Malachi seemed to belong even from the very beginning. Bra knew that she'd struck gold finding someone like Malachi despite their issues. She doubted there would ever be anyone else to compare to him. Any inconveniences her mind conjured up about their relationship became small and insignificant in light of the overall effect he seemed to have on her family. In fact, it made her feel a little guilty that she often felt unfulfilled when the night wouldn't end the way she would envision. They'd talk most nights if he wasn't already asleep or sharing a room with Jensen. She liked that he was concerned about how her day had gone and genuinely cared about the things she accomplished at work. She liked that she got to hear a great deal about her children and how they were doing. She liked that Malachi seemed at ease and well. But there was always that one thing that nagged her as she was continually left with the consolation prize of his mere closeness—sex.

He likely wasn't avoiding it on purpose or with any malicious intent, but he hadn't so much as initiated anything of the sort. A brief kiss here and there wasn't cutting it for Bra. She had to admit, however, that days and weeks slipped by quickly as she found her time occupied with work and family and she would be exhausted by the end of the day. This wasn't enough to stave off her ever-present appetite though, one that he had not attended to in a while.

She climbed into bed that night with a sigh knowing that nothing different would occur. The bed only occupied her until Malachi joined her some time later—he'd put the kids to bed finally. Always, no matter how tired she was, she'd inwardly become excited when he was nearby. It seemed he wanted her closeness that night as he was not satisfied with simply sharing a bed and she was more than willing to accommodate his advances. Soon they were entangled with one another, but things went no further than this. Though she'd been hoping that he'd initiate something far more intimate, her excitement dulled when she realized that this was it. Her fast beating heart slowed as she felt his against her back—slow and steady as it usually was. He was already falling asleep. While most men would have been hard, being in such close proximity to a beautiful woman such as herself, he was blissfully unaware of her growing heat. It would take a moment for her to calm herself and even longer to fall asleep, but it was all she could do.

She was not entirely upset since she understood him. She could figure out for herself why things were turning out like this. Knowing was far less frustrating than being ignorant. She found for the first time in her life that she felt far more satisfied meeting his needs than she did her own. It was comforting. If he never suffered or had another bad day in his life, then that would be enough for her.

Still, that nagging feeling of unfulfillment never left her.

* * *

 **The laughter of babies was something that Bulma was quickly getting used to once again in her life and it always brought a smile to her face.** Malachi had a way with children. He'd told her sometime before that he found it far easier to entertain a child than an adult. The world had not yet bogged them down with hardships and prejudices and they could see the world objectively albeit naïvely, accepting things wholeheartedly at face value. He doted on them perhaps even more than Bunny and that was saying something. Bra had managed to find not only a good boyfriend, but a good father who was patient and slow to anger. It embarrassed Vegeta at times as he'd poke fun at Malachi though not with any ill intent. She simply thought it was fascinating to witness. Even her own father could be negligent in the emotions department preferring science over most other things.

Astor would apparently be coming over today so said Jensen that morning. It was a normal occurrence by this time, but it had piqued Bulma's interest. This meant that Auden would at some point be only a few feet from the house. Somehow, he'd managed to allude her at every turn. He seemed keen on never setting foot in the house and remaining a complete mystery to her. She tried to call him in the past, but he had since changed his number. Short of visiting him at the workplace or staking out in the parking lot, she was more likely to not see him at all.

Today would be different. She was determined to stop him before he sped off down the road. It had been a very long time and she was eager to see how he was doing. She knew he must have been doing well according to her daughter. Bra hadn't mentioned anything more off than usual about him, but she wanted to find that out for herself. Bulma waited out on the porch around noon time when he would usually arrive on the weekend. She began to pace as the minutes rolled by. Eventually, she saw his familiar dark green car coming down the private road towards the front of the house. The car had scarcely stopped before Astor was climbing out the car and bounding towards the house.

"Hi, Mrs. Brief," Astor shouted to her as her small legs carried her up the porch stairs.

"Hey, doors open already. Knock yourself out," Bulma replied.

"Thanks, I will."

Astor was always excited to come over and play with Jensen. Bulma was glad that Jensen had actually made a friend. It would do wonders for him socially and Astor didn't seem like a bad person to hang out with. She hadn't been worried in the first place if she was raised by Auden. Already, the car was trying to escape, but Bulma was moving fast towards the car. She also called his name for good measure. The car stopped eventually and she was able to walk over to the driver's side. It must have been clear to him then that she wanted to talk because the door was opening and he was stepping out without any further encouragement from her.

She'd forgotten how tall he was as she stood before him. She felt very short standing in front of him yet she was not at all intimidated. He gave off a relaxed air or at least it felt that way since he'd not bothered putting his hair up in its usual ponytail or bun. His long, blond locks hung down past his shoulders stopping a few inches below his shoulder blades. He looked at her with eyes she could not quite read.

"Hello, Bulma."

"Hey, yourself. Looks like you've been trying to avoid me for months now."

"I didn't want to cause any trouble. You have your own life now."

"Yeah, yeah, I knew you'd say something like that. As if we're suddenly strangers now."

"We haven't talked in a very long time—"

"Look, Auden, we're still friends."

This seemed to take him by surprise as his eyebrows raised a bit much to her amusement. "I wasn't aware," he said after a moment.

"Maybe if you called me every once in a while," Bulma said with a grin. "You changed your number. Never thought I'd see the day. You had the number for years."

"Couldn't be helped. My old service provider long since went out of business."

"And you didn't feel the need to let me know your new number?"

"It slipped my mind."

From anyone else, Bulma would have found this to be a weak excuse, but she had a feeling that he was being totally sincere. She'd never known him to lie. "Well," she said after a moment, "We finally get to meet again."

Bulma watched as the other closed the door to the car. "So we do," he replied with a small nod. She couldn't tell if he was annoyed or genuinely glad to see her again.

"How have you been?" she asked.

"Quite well considering," Auden answered.

He looked well. In fact, it seemed he hadn't aged very much—he was just as handsome as she'd remembered. If only he would smile a little more often or at all. Maybe his eyes might sparkle again.

"Still working at CC?"

"I am. I've made a few advances in my career, but I'm sure you knew that."

"Yeah," she said with a grin, "My daughter works for you. I didn't know it at first though."

"She has a way with numbers—a lot like you."

"If recall right, _you_ were the one who was really good at that. I was the physics girl."

"You were more concerned with how things worked rather than the minutia of calculations."

"Well that's what you were there for—the tedious stuff."

"Tedious in your eyes perhaps, but absolutely necessary. Data and logic—all things that never strayed from their set procedures and therefore never mislead me. How have you been, Bulma?"

"I couldn't ask for anything better. I think I've already checked all the boxes of the things I wanted to accomplish in life."

"That's good."

"I wonder if you could say the same."

Auden gazed at her for a moment longer than usual. "I suppose you already know the answer to that, but I am content."

"Is that really all you want? Just to be content?"

"I think I am grateful even for that accomplishment, trite as you might find it."

"No, I don't think that at all. I just think it's a shame that you're fine with the status quo. All those things you told me before, the dreams you said you had—do they still mean anything to you?"

Auden sighed. "That was the past. This is the present."

"It is. And you're in a position now to do whatever you want to do."

"Am I? I've never once felt like that."

Bulma looked at him sympathetically. "Why don't you come in? Malachi's probably making some lunch for everybody right about now."

"I'd rather not."

"Oh, c'mon. It won't be awkward unless you make it that way and so far I think you're doing just fine around me. I know you don't like crowds, but…"

"I'm not one for taking unnecessary chances. If you don't mind, I think I'll take my leave now."

"Auden, please stay."

"I have some work to attend to."

"On a weekend? All business offices are closed."

"Things leftover from the week that no one was able to get to."

"Leave it for work."

"Why procrastinate?"

"You're being difficult," Bulma said now crossing her arms. "You can't fool me. What exactly are you in such a rush to be doing right now? Who's even at your house if Astor's here? You'll just be by yourself. It's not good to isolate yourself as much as you do."

He averted his gaze. "I like it that way. Far less trouble. Far less stress. Nothing has ever gone awry under such circumstances."

"No, I suppose it hasn't. Sometimes, though, we have to take risks. That's all a part of living. We can't always avoid them."

"Ah, another life lesson from the wise Bulma." For the first time, she heard a bit of emotion in his tone and she was sure it was sarcasm. He continued, "I try to minimize risk as much as possible and, of course, one cannot completely avoid them. That is an impossible task. I've chosen not to involve myself in other people's lives unless absolutely necessary. Unless you plan on forcefully bringing me inside, I will be leaving."

Bulma made her way closer to the car until she was standing in front of the driver's seat door. She looked at him challengingly knowing that he almost always abstained from touching anybody in any way. He wouldn't be able to get back into his car. For a short while, Auden matched her gaze before giving up with a look of resignation.

"I promise it won't be that bad."

"I told you I'm not coming inside. I'll simply walk home if you insist on standing in my way."

Bulma watched with a startled expression as he turned intending to walk down the winding road. "Hold on, hold on," she said shaking her head. "You're really going to walk all that way? I can't let you do that." She stepped away from the car then. "Well, my door is always open to you. You can trust me and anyone else in my family."

Auden walked over to the car door and opened it with a click. "I only trust two people, Bulma—you, of course, and my daughter. Everyone else is a coin toss."

Bulma watched as the other climbed back into the car. "Next time perhaps?" she asked with an encouraging smile.

He looked up at her one final time. "I'll think about it."

That was the most she was ever going to get from him as he closed the door. She stepped back as he carefully turned the car back and made his way once again down the lonely stretch of road. She watched the scene before her forlornly knowing that "I'll think about it" was a euphemism for "no". Their little meeting had left her more sad than happy. It could have been worse, however. It could have been far worse. Even as she told herself that he was doing well, she knew that she couldn't say such things with confidence.

It was as if time had stopped for him at some point. Even his daughter didn't seem to age at all and it had been years. Astor acted exactly the age she appeared to be. Bulma wondered why that was the case. It was as if they were content to continue in this way forever, living in a strange little time loop, stagnant and unchanging. She wondered if there was anything she could do to help, but a better question was whether he wanted her help in the first place. He seemed uninterested in catching back up again. She couldn't rightly determine if he was actually glad to see her. It wasn't as if he'd reached out to her in any way. He knew she lived here yet he never made any attempts to step inside or talk to her. In fact, if she hadn't made it a point to do so, they might not have ever met.

But with Auden, one had to look at things a little differently. As far as she knew, he wasn't used to having to keep up or stay in contact with people; he'd never gotten into that kind of habit. Lack of communication could be attributed to that. Things that weren't of his immediate concern often was forgotten completely. Auden preferred to focus on things pertaining to computers or software—things which made sense to him. Auden had continued to work at CC instead of finding some other employment even after all these years and he currently held a prestigious position. He hadn't shied away from advancement and took on more and more responsibilities. From where she stood, he didn't seem all that burnt out or stressed from it either. If he truly wanted to avoid her altogether, he could have moved elsewhere, but he hadn't. There were many things he _hadn't_ done to completely divorce himself from her life. An entire year had passed and he appeared to have no qualms with her daughter working for him. He remained in his position without complaint or further action.

Perhaps she was thinking too deeply about things, but it didn't seem as if he wanted nothing at all to do with her. He did, however, seem hesitant and that was understandable considering that he happened to be her ex and she was married. It wasn't a big deal to her as she had many exes, but she suspected that Auden likely had far less if any at all aside from her.

She'd made her way back inside again. It would be her little project, she decided. She knew there wasn't an immediate solution, but it would be something she worked on little by little.

* * *

 **Bra had come home early that day.** After she was back in the house again, she sought out Malachi. As she approached the room in which she sensed him, she could hear the voices of Jensen and Astor, then the small content noises of babies. They all resided in the den that afternoon it seemed. When she peered inside, she saw that Malachi had joined the two older kids in a video game. She'd almost forgotten that Malachi was well-acquainted with gaming systems and owned a good number of them as well as an impressive library of games for each system. He often lamented never having enough time to actually play them—now he had all the time in the world as well as others who didn't mind playing a few games themselves. It was a wide-open space and the babies seemed entertained both from the interesting images on the screen and all the toys that Malachi had apparently taken from their rooms. They seemed to be enjoying themselves and Bra didn't feel the need to intrude. She briefly pulled Malachi's attention just to let him know that she was back and then left them to their activities.

There were other things on her mind. She made her way downstairs to her mother's lab. Bra hardly ever spent time there, but it was the only place she could find the information she needed. The lab contained a powerful computer that was capable of analyzing and storing a staggering amount of data. Bra knew that her mother must have by now compiled quite the file of personal data about Malachi on account of all those bodily scans she'd done on him in the past. It was in her mother's nature to be thorough and surely since she was able to create a drug specifically for Malachi, she must have a great deal of information on him. She was hoping her mother's computer had the answers to a burning question of hers.

Bra had been distracted at work scouring the internet for ways to improve one's sex drive for one such as Malachi. Surely there had to be something out there for that sort of thing. She'd only scratched the surface at first, but just before she was told to leave, she hit on something that piqued her interest: testosterone. Libido in men was linked to this hormone. She wondered if there was some way she could naturally increase this. Increasing one's T-levels should then increase their libido so said the article and Bra's common sense. That was when she began to wonder about Malachi's levels. Maybe that would explain everything. Maybe everything would begin to make sense. Perhaps physically, there was something that wasn't right. That _had_ to be the answer, but she also had to be sure and this was the most surefire way to verify.

Bra knew her mother's passwords, but navigating the intricate interface was another issue altogether. She spent quite a bit of time familiarizing herself with the screen and then she began to search at first aimlessly until she felt as if she was zeroing in on the right information. She had no clue which type of scanner her mother had used or what kind of data had been taken. She was winging it at this point. Then she found a chart entitled "Body Chemistry Makeup". She'd long since found the file labelled with Malachi's name. After clicking on this chart, the screen became filled completely with dozens of bars and numbers next to a name which Bra assumed was a chemical found in the human body. Her eyes carefully went over each name until she found "Testosterone (ng/dL)" and beside it was a red bar that went out quite a ways and then a number that read "1100". Bra realized as she looked that she had no idea what that number meant. All she could do was memorize it and find out if that was good or bad.

"Aren't _we_ curious today," Bulma said from behind her.

Bra looked back at her startled. "I just needed to check something."

Bulma gave her a partial grin. "You're a pretty smart girl, but I doubt you even know what any of these numbers mean. Even _I_ had to look things up when I was trying to see if there was anything off."

"Surprising; I thought you knew everything," Bra said turning back to the screen with a sigh.

"As much as I would like to claim that, it just isn't true. I'm not a trained medical professional. I'm only really good in a few areas like any other person. Reading people's vital signs is way outside my field," Bulma said with a laugh. "So what is it you're looking for?"

Bra crossed her arms at this. She wasn't sure if she should be upset that she'd been caught. She hadn't been trying to hide herself very well and already she was running into a bit of trouble. "Don't laugh."

"I won't," Bulma promised. "Just tell me, honey."

"I wanted to look up Malachi's testosterone levels to make sure they're good."

"Oh, I see," Bulma said in subtle teasing tones, "You want to figure out if it…explains things."

"Yes, Mom. Now are you going to give me a hard time?"

"No," Bulma said stepping forward until she was standing next to Bra who was sitting down in the chair, "I completely understand your dilemma, alright? I checked already. From what I can tell, there's nothing wrong with his testosterone levels. In fact, it's on the high end of the spectrum believe it or not."

"Really?" Bra said with furrowed eyebrows. "A-Are you sure?"

"Let's see," Bulma said putting an index finger in the air. She seemed to be reciting something she'd read before. "Guys with higher than average testosterone tend to drink more, are more likely to smoke, receive more injuries, and more likely to participate in high risk activities. Doesn't that sound like someone we know aside from the smoking part?"

Bra looked down at her lap as she heard this. "It does…"

"And that guy can definitely knock back a few," Bulma said with a laugh.

"It actually does explain things—the way he took to my father's training. I think he enjoyed it. Who in their right mind _enjoys_ that? All that, but, yet and still, low libido."

Bra looked up when she felt her mother place a hand on the back of the chair. "Honey, sexual orientation doesn't have much to do with libido. Sometimes there's a correlation sure, but it doesn't go hand in hand. One doesn't always explain the other. It's a mental thing just like any other sexual orientation."

"Yeah," she said slowly, "I guess libido wouldn't have anything to do with orientation—it just tells you how much sexual drive you have. But…it's just so odd. I mean, does he struggle with being asexual because of his T-levels?"

"No, I sincerely doubt there's any struggling. That's just the way it is. And the mind can be a powerful thing. It makes us who we are."

"Guess that was a silly question," Bra said after a moment. "Doesn't seem like he's struggling with that at all," she finished laughing softly.

Even now it was hard to wrap her mind around his asexuality. He could, in theory, go the rest of his life neglecting sex altogether and not be at all effected by it. He'd be utterly fine and not feel as if he was missing out on anything. It gave her a cold feeling thinking what life might be like if that was the case for her. Maybe it was impossible for her to place herself into his shoes and completely understand him. That feeling, that need was an ingrained part of her natural desires. Truly lacking that desire was still a scary thought. Every time she really sat down and thought about it, coming closer and closer to visualizing herself that way, it felt as if she was standing on the edge of a precipice. How could a thing so natural, so intrinsic be utterly absent from one's being? Somewhere deep down, a small part of her felt as if it was something that needed to be fixed or _could_ be fixed. She thought she'd had all the answers only for her assumptions to be proven wrong once again. She hated being wrong.

"Maybe I should take the kids for a day so you two can spend some quality time together. I only had to deal with one a time," Bulma said with a grin, "I can only imagine all the hassle now."

"It's not a hassle. Malachi loves those kids. He talks about them all the time," Bra replied trying to smile and look at things positively.

"Uh-huh," Bulma said in a knowing tone, "But perhaps they take too much of his attention. I know how men are—the thing they least like to do, they put on the backburner. Maybe a little nudge in the right direction is all you need."

"More of a shove," Bra corrected her. "Anything less subtle doesn't seem to work. To top it off…" She paused as she felt a little embarrassed saying this in front of her mother, "we're not even married yet. But it feels like we are sometimes."

"Just give it time."

"How much time?"

"I can't answer that," Bulma said with a sigh. "I wish I could."

"I know. Just another silly question. I think I found what I needed here. I saw him in the den earlier—think I'll join him," Bra said standing up.

"Alright," her mother said with an encouraging smile. "Have fun."

She walked back out of the lab, but in reality, didn't plan on joining Malachi. Instead, she went back to her room and turned on her E-pad to access the internet. There had to be something she could do to make things a little better. She didn't want to constantly ask him to make love to her. Was there some way to make herself more desirable or, at least, make it more obvious to him what she wanted? She searched for a long time, skipping things she knew wouldn't work on Malachi. Then she refined her search to including his orientation. She began to stumble upon articles that amounted to telling her to be patient, that pressuring the other was a big turnoff, being in a relationship with one such as Malachi doesn't mean he's obligated to appease her every single time. She knew all these things though it was difficult to get used to. Communication, as always, was key.

But Bra didn't want to be so overt about things. Jumping on top of him only wound up annoying him more than anything else—he'd told her as much before when they had a long candid conversation about such activities. He admitted that there were times when it was a little easier to get into the mood when he wasn't too exhausted and he wasn't worrying about anything essentially when he was relaxed. He liked when things moved slowly and when he felt as if he wasn't racing against time to do everything she wanted. That made sense since he needed so much foreplay to "ready" himself. She wanted things to move a lot quicker than that, but she craved his touch so terribly that she was willing to make do. Even if things sometimes moved at molasses pace, he was the only one who could sate her appetite and she'd be quite devastated if he decided to no longer do any of those things. It was _his_ skin that she wanted to feel, _his_ touch, _his_ breath against her skin, _his_ lips upon her lips. Just thinking about it was beginning to drive her a little crazy. Did he know what he did to her? Of course he had to know—why wouldn't he? It almost felt as if it was some cruel joke of his to watch her squirm in sexual frustration. She knew it wasn't intentional, but it still worked out that way.

"You tease," Bra grumbled under her breath.

The articles didn't help her in the least. There was no nugget of advice that could help her. Why did things have to be this way, her mind wondered hopelessly. This dry spell wouldn't last forever. He'd notice her dissatisfaction eventually and because she knew he had a gentle heart, he'd do anything he could to make her smile again. Sex wasn't a habit, but a privilege. How ironic the cosmos could be for allowing her to find someone so perfect only to be forced to give up or, at least, compromise on the thing she was most looking forward to in a relationship.

Then she found something on top results for a different search she'd done. Bra had wanted some herbal product that could increase one's libido. She found a brown powder and then immediately began researching it. After reading countless positive reviews on various sites as well as videos both sponsored and non-sponsored, she decided right then and there that she would try it on Malachi—it was worth a try. It wasn't technically medicine or harmful if it was herbal, right? The thing that really sold it for her were the accounts that almost mirrored her situation. It apparently had an effect even on those who totally lacked the desire and they had reported noticeable positive changes—better health, better outlook on life. Maybe this was the answer to everything. Maybe it was the push he needed to stop lollygagging on his proposal.

Bra discovered that the product could be bought easily at the nearest herbal store and she had no problem obtaining it that day. There was no sense in dawdling. She knew as well even as she was in the store buying the packet of herbal powder, that this was something that Malachi likely wouldn't agree to and she didn't blame him. Agreeing to taking such a thing would be tantamount to proclaiming that there was indeed something broken about him that needed to be fixed. Bra never wanted him to feel that way so she took it upon herself to keep her dealings secret. Even if he wouldn't agree to it, she was sure that he would like it and reap the benefits. She was sure having to struggle to satisfy her was quite taxing for him. If he planned to do it anyway, why not make it a little easier on him?

By the time she came back to the house, Malachi had put the two babies in their cribs for a nap and was with Vegeta training. Astor and Jensen had gone off on their own to entertain themselves outside. It was going to be a long day in which she'd have very little to do. Who knew how long Malachi would be with her dad so she anticipated having to deal with the babies eventually which wasn't an altogether terrible prospect. The two of them had produced very cute little babies and for the most part they seemed happy and good-natured, Machi was even more so. Jr. wasn't exactly one to laugh and tickling him rarely yielded any results, but he was certainly capable of smiling or becoming fascinated with something. Jr. very quickly grew bored of things and moved on to other activities which made him a little more difficult to watch. Machi, on the other hand, could consistently be entertained by just a handful of blocks.

Dinnertime came and went. It was a good day for everyone, just another normal day. No impending threat to the world, no one was on the verge of dying, everyone was well. Bra did notice that her father had managed to tire out Malachi quite thoroughly much to her annoyance, but for this night it would work in her favor. The directions on the packet required that the powder be dissolved in water either hot or cold and then consumed right before bed. It apparently had an immediate drowsing effect and the intended results would be seen the very next morning and most reviews had noted this.

It wouldn't be hard to get him to drink this concoction. She'd claim it was something healthy for him to drink right before bed and he'd have no reason to question her. He usually didn't, at least not when it came to her word on things. Just like she'd forced him to eat breakfast on that day he'd been late to the studio, she'd do the same here. After everyone was settling down for the night, Bra boiled some water, mixed in the herbal powder, and placed it into a teacup. As far as anyone was concerned, this was nothing but a cup of innocent tea. She brought it upstairs carefully with a saucer beneath it. It was piping hot and slowly cooling, but Malachi never had much issue tasting things that most others would consider a bit too hot in temperature—it probably came with the territory of being a freelance cook.

"Brought you something," Bra announced as she entered the room they shared.

He'd just put on his pajamas and he smelled earthy and sweet from his shower.

"What's this?" he asked amused. He was always entertained by any instance of her appearing like a "doting" girlfriend.

"Some tea I made for you. Noticed my father worked you quite hard today."

"He did—that guy is relentless," Malachi said shaking his head. "And I told him to go easy. I'm still alive at least," he finished with a good-natured laugh.

Bra intended to put it on the nightstand beside him, but then placed it in his hand since he held it out for her. He required even less explanation than she thought. There were no suspicious questions, no inkling that he thought anything was amiss. He simply took a sip after blowing it off a little. In that moment, she realized just how much he trusted her. She almost regretted betraying that trust, but not enough to stop him. In the end, it seemed her needs mattered more.

"Bitter," he commented, "Could use some sugar next time," he teased.

"Oh, shut-up, you're lucky I even brought this up for you."

"You know, you never cease to surprise me—I appreciate the thought. Tomorrow, maybe you'll graduate to a sandwich as well," he said with a grin.

"I'm going to strangle you to death."

"And she's back," Malachi laughed.

It didn't take him long to finish and she'd already climbed into bed by then. Bra made sure not to turn towards him that night—she was grinning from ear to ear in her deception. Her anticipation didn't help. She listened gleefully as he moved under the sheets to join her. They were so close together now. She could feel his essence, warm and reassuring.

"Hey, Bra," Malachi said causing her excited thoughts to pause, "Why'd you come home early today? Trouble at work?"

"You could say that," she said trying to keep her voice neutral.

"Is it bad?"

"Nothing worth worrying about. Just wasn't focusing today."

"Maybe you should quit," he said with a yawn.

"You'd love that, wouldn't you? Don't think I can keep a job that long?"

"Well, you've proven me wrong so far. Though I'd love to see you more often."

Her smile lessened a little when he said this. Maybe if she spent more time with him, he'd feel a bit more strongly about her and she wouldn't have to resort to these measures to get things out of him. Maybe. Maybe not. "I'd love that as well. I do kind of like my job. What would we do all day though?" Bra waited for his response, but he was strangely quiet. It took her a moment to realize that he was already falling asleep. The smile came back to her face. "Malachi?" she asked for good measure.

"…Huh? Oh, sorry, didn't catch that last part."

"Tired?" Bra asked knowingly.

"More so than usual," he said after a moment. "Probably pushing myself too hard again."

Bra heard as he made himself a bit more comfortable, pulling his pillow closer to him, curling his body a bit more. Usually, he'd pull the covers over his head so that he could incase himself completely in them, but he didn't bother with it this time.

"Goodnight, Bra," he rumbled beside her, his speech somewhat unclear. It seemed even a task to part his lips.

"Goodnight," she replied grinning to herself.

He dropped off quickly after. She listened to his deep, rhythmic breathing thereafter, constant and unchanging. Just as the sound of rain was calming so too was the sound of his peaceful resting. This eventually lulled her into slumber.


	62. Not What It's Cracked Up to Be

**Malachi didn't wake at his normal time and for the first time in a long time she had awoken with him still laying beside her.** He didn't have a job to go to so Bra didn't think too much of it in the beginning, but she realized after a moment that he, in fact, did quite a bit in the morning time. After she quickly went through her morning cleaning rituals, she made her way downstairs to a house that didn't smell anything like morning which was essentially having the smell of cooking permeating the house. In fact, no one was in the kitchen and no one had been there at all since the morning began. According to her growling stomach, this was a tragedy. The day that she'd been anticipating was already starting off on the wrong foot. She'd never taken it upon herself to wake up Malachi or go find her grandmother for breakfast to be made, but it was beginning to seem like she didn't have a choice. Malachi, at least, was far more accessible. Come to think of it, _he'd_ been the one making breakfast for the past few weeks. Likely, the job had fallen on him and it had already become habit. With a sigh, she climbed the steps again to drag her boyfriend out of bed if nothing more but to make breakfast already.

But he was thoroughly asleep. No amount of shoving or calling his name was having much of an effect.

"Malachi," Bra said shaking him more vigorously, "Time to get up."

He grumbled unintelligible words and then turned away from her.

"Seriously, Malachi," she said as she shook him again.

He buried his face further into the pillows and sighed deeply. That was when she heard Jr.'s cries down the hall. He probably needed to be fed and was getting upset with the lack of attention. Bra had a feeling that by now, Malachi would have already seen to him. Even this didn't wake Malachi.

"Hey, Jr.'s hungry and I need to go to work," she called out loudly to Malachi.

"…Uh-hm…" Malachi rumbled from within the pillows.

That was when a tiny sliver of dread began to form in the back of her mind. Malachi was a morning person. He liked getting up early. Malachi also _really_ cared about his children. Jr.'s cries were usually enough of an alarm clock to wake him even in his groggiest, exhausted states. Yet today he seemed to ignore them with ease. Soon Machi joined her brother and Bra knew she had to do something about all the racket they were causing. She was ill-suited to feeding infants despite doing so quite a few times before. She just didn't have the patience. After attempting to wake him again and watching as he turned away from her in the same way, she knew the job had fallen to her.

One by one, she brought the teary-eyed babies downstairs into the dining room away from her still resting parents. They were both still being fed formula along with other pureed foods. Now what foods had Malachi told her about? Since he'd been the one feeding them, he knew better than anyone what they're favorites were and what would cause the least amount of struggle to feed them. Admittedly, she hadn't really been paying attention when he droned on and on about them. Eventually, she decided that she'd simply have to wing it. She made some formula and looked through the kitchen to find something soft and easy to mash up. She wound up with two small bowls of smashed peas and two bottles of formula. She was still preparing the peas when she heard small footsteps behind her. She looked back and beheld Jensen fully dressed and ready to go to school. His dark hair was long and even, a side bang still covered most of his left eye. His dark blue jeans were closefitting, his black leather ankle-high boots were spiked around the rim, and he wore a light green long-sleeved collared shirt tucked in his jeans. He also wore an expression that wasn't exactly enthused to see her.

"Why's Daddy so tired this morning?" he asked in accusatory tones.

"My father and he were training yesterday evening; they overdid things I guess," she said looking away from his dark challenging eyes. She continued mashing the peas.

"You did something, didn't you?"

"I don't much like your tone, little man. He's just tired. You'll have to get breakfast at school today just like all the other kids. I'm running late as it is."

"He's not just tired. I know what tired looks like and it's something more than that. I was trying to get him up so he can take me to school, but he couldn't be bothered with giving me a coherent answer."

Bra turned to him fully. "Well, 'Daddy' doesn't run on an energizer battery, okay? I'm sure he'll make it up to you later."

"I _know_ that," Jensen said stepping a little closer to her. "He's just human and still vulnerable to all the things normal people are. He can get sick, he can work himself too hard and not recover very well, he could die from things that don't even appear to be dangerous."

Bra wondered where he was going with his little speech and then as he uttered the last few words her dread began to grow, but her eyes furrowed as she grew defensive. "Sometimes you act like you're the only one who cares about him. I hate to burst your bubble, but I do too and I would never do anything to harm him."

"Not intentionally," Jensen said back before she could continue. "But ignorance has never been a good excuse for anything as far as I know."

"Jensen," Bra began in a weary tone, "You're not old enough to start giving _me_ advice."

Jr. started crying out again so she turned back to grab the bowls to begin feeding them. Jensen still hadn't left as he followed her into the dining room where the babies were. Bra decided to start on Jr. first, but Jensen stopped her much to her annoyance. She looked at him with a raised eyebrow. _What now, little boy?_

"I'll take Jr. You do Machi—she's way less fussy."

Bra's mouth pursed at this, but she noticed that Jr. was already banging his little arms against the booster table and making it shake violently. He looked like he would be a handful and Bra did not feel like getting food all over herself.

"Fine, be my guest," Bra said handing him the bowl and moving out of the way.

"He likes dairy the most," Jensen said, "Not so much peas, but he'll eat pretty much anything you give him."

Bra vaguely remembered Malachi mentioning that Jr. really loved yogurt, but it was too late to change things now. She sat down near Machi with another bowl of smashed peas. Her eyes were still a bit puffy, but from the mere sight of food, she was already smiling and giggling again. Machi seemed to welcome food with ease. Bra looked over at Jensen as he coaxed the worked-up baby into eating, talking in soft, inviting tones and putting very, very small amounts onto the spoon so that the mess was minimal. Soon Jr. was eating without much trouble at all.

"You're pretty good at that," Bra said watching the other.

"I try to be," he said with a grin. "I think it's kinda cool. Sometimes I wonder how it might've been like for me had I been this way."

"Everyone wonders that. Nobody remembers themselves as babies unless something really traumatic happens."

"But maybe _I_ would have remembered."

She shook her head at this imagining how odd that would have been.

"You think I'm weird, don't you?" he asked as he must have noticed her motions.

"Guess it's best not to lie…Yeah," she admitted. "I haven't gotten around to getting used to you."

"I suppose it doesn't help that I've been avoiding you just so it can stay that way between us."

"Really?" she asked surprised. She thought _she'd_ been doing the same thing, but she decided not to mention this to him. "Maybe we should try and remedy that."

"Maybe," he repeated slowly. "In the meantime, could you take me to school? I've missed the bus already."

"Yeah? And I bet you knew you'd miss the bus if you helped me feed them."

He grinned mischievously. "You're not as dumb as you look. I'll even help you load them into the car if you also take me somewhere to get breakfast—seems like you could use some too."

"Your father know you call other adults 'dumb'?" she asked with crossed arms, "I'm sure he wouldn't approve."

"Well, he's not here, now is he?" Jensen said back.

"No, but I'm sure he'd appreciate it if your manners didn't depend on whether he was around or not."

Jensen sighed exasperatedly. "We going or not?" he asked. He didn't appear to be paying her much mind as he lifted Jr. out of the tall chair.

Bra realized that they had to take the babies with them because no one else was up right now and she was not about to go wake her parents. The thought of doing everything herself seemed daunting. Having Jensen near who seemed to know what he was doing was preferable at the moment even if his flippant attitude wasn't.

"Alright, c'mon, I don't have time to argue."

She still had to call her boss since she'd now probably be coming in a couple hours late. She hated being late, but she also knew that Auden was extremely lenient with her so any worries she had were ephemeral at best. Jensen helped her carry the baby seats to the car, set them up, and securely strap them in. He was an expert as it turned out—he'd done this many times apparently.

"Which place did you want to go?" Bra asked,

"A restaurant. Pancake House," he said quickly.

"Wow, you want to do all of that?"

"Unless you want fast-food. Thought you hated that."

"I do," she said with a sigh. "Pancake House it is then." They drove in utter silence before Bra decided to turn on the radio. "So…excited about school today?"

Bra only received a side-glance from him. Ultimately, he didn't reply and continued looking out the window.

"Excited about…Pancake House?"

He sighed in what sounded like annoyance.

"Excited about anything?"

"I'm worried about Daddy."

Bra frowned at this. The boy was nothing if not one-track. "He's fine. You're just blowing things out of proportion again. You worry too much. I'm sure everyone's told you that at some point."

"I know when there's something wrong," he said quietly. "I can feel those kinds of things. It's a feeling I always get when things have gone awry. I haven't been wrong yet."

"You saw him this morning," Bra said exasperatedly. "He's just tired." She was beginning to sound like a broken record. Was this going to be the extent of their conversation?

"Too tired. Too inattentive. That's not normal. He trained with Grandpa, but they didn't go all out—Grandpa went easy on him yesterday."

"Well, keep thinking that then. You'll come back home and be pleasantly surprised."

"I don't know about that. I know you did something again—"

"Jensen—" Bra began to protest.

"If I find out you have something to do with this—"

"You'll what?" Bra said back as anger colored her tone. She was just about at the end of her patience with the rude, brazen child who was hardly over two years old.

She felt his eyes on her, bearing deep holes into her. "I will continue to hate you and there will be nothing you can do to change that." He said this calmly, chillingly so, enough to cause her pause.

She glanced at him and noticed his dark eyes afire with passion—he was being quite literal. "You don't even know what hate really means—give it a rest already," she said making light of his words. "I can't allow your attitude to go unchecked. I'm taking time out of my life to take you to school and _this_ is how you talk to me? Maybe I won't take you to breakfast."

"Starve me to death. Daddy's gonna' love hearing you did that."

"Well, I'm not here to make him happy all the time. If that threat was meant to scare me, then you have another thing coming. How 'bout I take you to breakfast? Then I'll just take away your phone privileges."

"You wouldn't."

The things coming out of his mouth right now was utterly ridiculous. "I would. I can and I will, little boy. I'm the parent, you're the child."

"Yeah, you're a parent of some sort," he scoffed. "Not mine."

He took out his phone and put it into the glove compartment.

"Good," Bra said. "I guess you've chosen breakfast."

"Food over materialism. A no-brainer." He'd turned his head back to the window. "It's no secret you never wanted me to have a phone in the first place. Comes as no surprise."

"What do you mean?"

"Don't act like you're totally innocent in all this. You still have misgivings about my mother."

"Your father went out of his way to date some other girl and even impregnate her while he was still considering being with me. I may not be innocent, but he isn't either."

"Was he? I think he would have been better off without you."

"Really, Jensen? You have no _idea_ what you're talking about," Bra said as her voice grew louder. "What do you care about your mother? You never met her! You're the one who…" Her voice trailed off before she could finish her thought. _You're the one who killed her off so who's really to blame?_ That would have been too cruel for an emotional child who was just venting. She needed to take the higher road. "It just seems like you're giving your father a free pass. Meanwhile, all I get from you is judgement."

"Prove me wrong then, Bra. Show me why I should trust you."

"It's 'Mom', young man."

Jensen laughed at this. "Mom? I don't have one of those. I have a 'Bra' and a 'Daddy'."

"Jensen, you can call me 'Mom'. I give you permission."

"Right. I'll get right on it."

Bra shook her head in irritation. She would have much rather him give up breakfast just so she could get him out of her hair faster, but it was not to be. His mood didn't improve the entire time she was out with him and the babies in the back were not immune to their sour moods. Machi who seemed to be the more sensitive one of the two was already making sounds of discontent. Luckily, they didn't start outright crying. She was relieved to finally drop Jensen off at school after their awkward, silent breakfast together.

She called up Auden saying that she'd be in late; he had no issue with this. He even suggested that she take the day off. After thinking a moment, she took him up on this offer. Jensen's words were starting to get to her and she wasn't feeling too great about Malachi's state. She wanted to keep a close eye on him.

Upon arriving home, she relinquished the babies into Bunny's care as she was up by then. Then without sparing her another thought, she climbed the stairs to her room to see about Malachi. He was still asleep. When she tried to wake him again, he was even less responsive than before and very incoherent just as Jensen had said. Only jumbled, nonsensical words came from his mouth before he was turning away and moving about only a little before settling down and falling back to sleep. It was very unlike him the more she thought about it.

Nothing on the reviews had mentioned this sort of thing happening. Was she missing something?

"Alright, honey, I won't bother you anymore, but if this keeps up, I'm dragging you over to the doctor."

Bra stayed by his side for hours, turning on the television and then switching it off when she grew bored with it. Four hours passed before she noticed more movement than usual from him. He seemed to have some trouble even sitting up so she helped him with this—it did nothing to ease her growing concern. Soon his back was up against the backboard, but his eyes still had sleep in them.

"Welcome back to the world of the living," Bra said with a smile.

He smiled back at her though not enough to part his lips. "Uumm…good morning, beautiful." His voice was still a bit scratchy, but his vigor seemed to be returning.

She liked compliments at any time of the day especially if it came from him. "Almost one in the afternoon. You missed everything," she teased.

"Have I?" he asked smoothly. Then he seemed to comprehend her words. "Wait, really? It's almost one? Geez—"

"Hold on, I got everything done. Jensen's at school, babies fed, everyone's fine," she said before his panic could fully be realized.

"Okay," he said with relief. "But…you're still here. That's what throwing me off. You're not at work," he said in realization.

Bra could almost see the wheels turning in his head once again now probably close to or back at full speed.

"Man," he said after a moment, "I must have _really_ been tired last night. Weird."

"Do you feel any different?"

Still Malachi wasn't suspicious even as she asked this question. He probably chalked it up to her being concerned about his oversleeping. He didn't answer her immediately as he seemed to just take in her face for the longest moment of her life.

"I don't know," he admitted finally. "Just, let me, uh, clean myself up. I'll be back."

"Okay…" she said.

It didn't take him long to climb out of bed and leave her on her own—an act that disappointed her. Was it working or not? But he didn't leave her for long. It was the fastest he'd ever finished in the bathroom. He climbed back onto the bed with her.

"I'm glad you're not at work right about now," he said pulling her closer to him.

She grinned at this. "Me too."

He never looked at her like that before, like he wanted to devour her completely. She gleefully closed the gap between them and they started kissing each other frantically, the mood seemingly overtaking them both equally. He seemed ravenous more so than what she thought he was capable of and he held her so firmly almost roughly as their bodies pressed against each other. He was the aggressor. She found herself in equal competition with him. She was fully within his grasp—his arms were around her as they continued to kiss. She didn't expect his hands to squeeze her butt cheeks and she squealed with surprise much to his amusement. As he finally pulled his lips away from hers so that she could finally breathe again, she could see the mischievous grin on his face.

"Am I being too forward?" he asked with some smugness in his tone.

"No, you're being just right." Two could play at that game.

She sat back a little and spread her legs apart so that they surrounded him, but he didn't need much invitation. He moved forward a bit so that he could reach her lips again; he was on all fours now pushing her further back. She was startled only for a moment when the blouse she was wearing was ripped off easily—buttons flew everywhere as Malachi moved towards her. He did away with her bra, pants, and eventually her panties. His tongue slid into places it had never been before and Bra found that she liked it. His hardness was obvious to her even before he managed to rip his own clothes off and discard them. His breathing was heavy, his hands were jittery as if he could barely contain his excitement. She wasn't used to such intensity, but for the moment she was enjoying the glory of it all.

"You're just irresistible today," he said breathlessly as he pulled back for a moment.

His eyes traveled down the length of her body as one would look at all the hot, steamy selections of the food bar at a buffet. Then his dark eyes returned to her bright blue ones—what was reflected in hers was reflected in his. Her strong legs had wrapped around his torso and squeezed with pleasure as waves of heat flowed through her. Her hands ran down his chiseled form—his tight shoulders, chest and abdomen muscles. He sighed with pleasure as she did this enjoying her wandering hands. They were enjoying each other's closeness, but this time it was different, more charged with electric energy.

It wasn't so one-sided and it was almost overwhelming—it had been awhile since she'd felt this sort of feeling. It was nostalgic, reminding her of how she'd always known such activities to be like: frenzied, passionate, absolutely necessary for both parties. She yelped in surprise when she felt a tiny nip on her shoulder. Though it wasn't enough to draw blood it was startling all the same.

"Sorry," he apologized as his soft tongue ran over the same spot.

"Careful," she said with a grin, "I might just do the same to you."

"I wouldn't taste as good," he said breathing onto her, "Nothing like the sweetness melting off of you right now."

She rolled her eyes at this as she saw his head disappear lower down her body. Soon his tongue was sliding over her clitoris.

"I hope you don't expect me to do the same to you," Bra warned.

"Unseemly for a princess. I just want to taste you."

She didn't stop him and as she felt him move further and further into her, unbidden, noises of pleasure strangled forth from her throat. This went on for longer than expected and the sounds emitting from her lips at this point was only encouraging him. Her hands grappled his hair as she felt as if she was being taken on a ride. The transition to something a bit more solid took her by surprise, but she enjoyed that as well. Her closed eyes now peered up as she felt him over her again. Three fingers had slid into her private area and those same three fingers were now being licked off by him in the slowest, most passionate way possible. She shook her head at the ridiculousness, but it seemed like he was really enjoying it—his eyebrows creased, his eyes closed as if in a strange trance.

"Seems like you're ready," he said to her as she now pulled him closer with her arms around his neck after she'd reached out to him.

"You bastard, I've _been_ ready," she replied playfully.

The moment in which he was finally inside her came swiftly after and she cried out in utter joy—she hoped she wasn't being too loud. He'd never been so "big" before; it took some getting used to. He rode her at an accelerated pace and she was liking his enthusiasm. She realized that this was the thing missing from before—his abounding enthusiasm. At some point, she felt another nip from him, but much harder and a bit more painful from before, maybe he'd even drawn blood—she couldn't be sure at this point. Was she not so fully engaged with him, she might have told him, but she was having too much fun. Then she forcefully took control and began riding _him_. It wasn't an unheard-of thing for her to do, but he seemed so dominating today more so than usual. She had to use more strength and bravado to make things go her way and she wasn't upset about this. Sometimes, she liked a bit of challenge. The reward became that much sweeter. Unlike before when she was in control, he didn't simply let things go—she was in a constant scuffle with him and she found that she enjoyed the physical exertion. He was never so animated before. She knew now that it was because the entire ordeal was more like a chore that he'd perfected himself in doing quite tidily and serviceably rather than an extra curriculum activity spurred on organically by growing fiery passion. It wasn't just about _her_ satisfaction, but his as well. He had a stake in the matter and it showed.

Sheets began to tear under their stormy proceedings and comforters began to shred in more and more startling regularity. This went on for quite some time and they engaged in multiple sessions of sex all in the span of an hour. By the time the hour was done, Bra was thoroughly exhausted after their numerous jaunts "between" the sheets. On this day, he outlasted even her endurance as she was forced to tell him to back down or else. She shook her head at the oddness of it all, but she'd had enough and she just wanted to sleep now. Even while he was still restless beside her, she found herself drifting off in full relaxation mode. She felt his lips gently press upon her forehead right before sleep took over.

* * *

 **Malachi took a quite a long and steamy shower that day feeling sticky and dirty from all the vigorous activity from earlier, but his heart was still racing and he couldn't get the image of Bra's naked form out his mind.** For all her bragging about her stamina during lovemaking that no one had ever been able to best, even she couldn't go on forever. In the back of his mind, he knew something was very wrong. These intense feelings that seemed to gradually come out of nowhere was almost overwhelming. He placed his hands against the tiled wall in front of him with his head bent leaning against his arms trying to calm himself in a futile effort. He simply could not. That part was beginning to scare him. Yet it was pleasurable—he couldn't deny that it felt good. He couldn't deny that he had enjoyed Bra in a way that he never imagined possible. Her mere touch had become electric and arousing. He was on fire all over and that feeling had not passed yet. What was that feeling? It was indescribable.

He dried himself, put on some clothes and climbed downstairs to make himself something quick to eat. What time was it anyway? Malachi had forgotten to take his phone with him. He found that he didn't care much about this and continued on towards the kitchen.

Every texture seemed alluring at this point: the soft give of the honey wheat bread, the moist, smooth surface of the sliced meat—he let his fingers linger there longer than usual—, the rubbery, silky surface of the iceberg lettuce, and the lustrous, velvety surface of the cheddar cheese—he pressed and dug his nails into its surface as heavy sighs escaped him. He couldn't stand too close to the counter any longer as he was rock hard at the moment, a fact that should have been more alarming to him, but likely nothing could put him into a bad mood. He was just fine. Everything was just fine and wonderful.

"You okay over there?" Bulma asked as she stepped into the kitchen. One eyebrow was raised as she thought something quite odd was occurring on that cutting board, but she couldn't be sure and she didn't want to jump to any silly conclusions.

He wasn't at all startled by her intrusion. In fact, he welcomed it. He grinned to himself. "Oh, um, just having some trouble with the cheese. Dull knife," he lied and he was quite amused by the flimsiness of that lie.

He reached out and grabbed a knife out of the knife block with some of the cheese crumbs still on his fingers in full view of the other. Curiosity got the better of her as she approached the counter just so she could see the state of this cheese. It was utterly demolished in a chaotic mess and he seemed to not care about the confused looks she was giving him.

"Perfect for a sandwich," he said with a laugh.

Bulma could see the plate beside the cutting board with all the fixings for a simple sandwich. Maybe it was a new recipe that she didn't know about. Malachi looked at her now with far more intensity than what she was prepared for and his eyes rummaged over her in an unhurried fashion. He took in the woman beside him, fully taking in the details: her slender shape, her tight clothes that accentuated her ample curves, her perky breasts, her milky skin. A smile had come to his face thoroughly enjoying the view despite the other's growing concern. He took his time washing his hands in the sink making sure his hands were clear of all cheese residue and dried again.

"Malachi? Is there something you'd like to tell me?" Bulma said only half-playing along. Maybe she was missing something completely, but his behavior seemed strange and out-of-place.

He took up one of her soft hands and pressed his lips against her skin and his lips lingered there for a moment too long.

"Malachi," Bulma repeated when it seemed he wouldn't release her hand.

"Quite lovely today, Ms. Brief—" he began as he finally moved his lips away.

" _Mrs._ Brief," Bulma corrected the other.

"Mrs. Brief," he repeated with a dreamy expression. "Want me to make you something nice? Something warm and sweet."

Despite herself she was becoming amused with his advances. She grinned at his antics even if it made little sense. Admittedly, Malachi had always been easy on the eyes. "No, I think I got it from here, mister. Maybe you should get back to that 'sandwich' of yours."

It took her a moment to realize that he was fully erected and that took her by surprise. Not that she'd never seen a thing like that before—she'd been known to have quite the effect on men even to this day—but the fact that it was _Malachi_. It was strange on many, many levels. He noticed when she realized this fact and his smile only broadened.

She grinned despite herself. "A little too much to drink this morning?" she asked as she turned away from him and went towards the refrigerator which was where she'd wanted to go from the very beginning when she stepped in.

What she needed was on the second shelf and she knew that she had to bend down to get it—a bag of cheese and crackers. She felt his eyes on her as she did this and she looked back at him warningly. What had gotten into him? "Eyes to yourself, Malachi," she said with a hard look.

He was largely unperturbed, thoroughly enjoying the view. He'd jumped up and sat on the edge of the sink with his head tilted slightly to the side. "Can I not admire the exquisite scene before me?"

She had to stop herself from smiling—she had to appear unamused or else it would encourage him. Compliments even inappropriate ones never ceased to charm her despite long sense becoming used to not receiving them as often, at least verbally. She never thought she'd have to be 'careful not to excite him' for the likes of Malachi. He was most definitely on something and she was beginning to think that alcohol was not the culprit. For now, it was best that she vacated the room. Whatever it was would wear off soon enough and then she'd confront him on her own later or maybe sic Vegeta on him…Still it was entertaining to say the least.

Malachi watched the woman leave with a growing heat and he contemplated pursuing her before thinking better on it. Some small part of his logical mind warned him that it probably wouldn't be a good idea. Besides, willing participants were what he was looking for and nothing less than that. He climbed off the sink and finally finished off preparing his sandwich—it was a poorly made one at this point, but this too he didn't care about so long as it was edible. He cleaned up the mess he made before taking his small meal to the dining room table where he could fully enjoy its texture. He usually toasted the bread, but he didn't in this instance—he wanted to feel the soft fleshiness of the bread betwixt his teeth. One bite took an incredibly long time to accomplish—he was enjoying it far too much to be in any real hurry. His teeth slowly bit down on more and more layers and his fingers pressed and squeezed the bread almost to oblivion. That sandwich was now in a terrible, shrunken condition and he'd taken only a bite. His eyes were closed and he was practically drooling. He heard footsteps in the distance pulling him out of his reverie and he wiped his mouth clean before the person was fully around the corner.

Bunny. The blonde woman with long, thick legs and a tiny waist strutting about in her cute, dainty way. She was in his full view right then and she was a pleasant sight. Already, she wore a smile—that was her nature.

"Hi there, handsome," Bunny said in a familiar, teasing way. She loved to flirt.

"Hey, gorgeous," he replied.

This caused the woman pause as he'd never responded to her like this before. She placed one slender hand upon her cheek as she regarded him further. She knew almost immediately that something was different about him nevermind the mangled sandwich on his plate.

"Didn't notice you this morning. Late start?" she asked as she continued to approach him.

"Very late start," he said with a grin gracing his lips. "Very late indeed."

"Any ideas for dinner? It's about time we started before people start getting cranky."

She stood near him, but soon she found herself pushed back against the table as Malachi stood and then stepped quite close to her. "Something warm and succulent," he said as he placed his hands on the table trapping her there against it. "Something irresistible."

She could feel the warmth from him now and he radiated strength and self-assuredness—it washed over her pleasantly. "Oh, my," she said becoming wrapped up in his close presence.

"Has anyone told you how ravishing you are, Bunny?"

"Not in a very long time," she said with a smile.

"A shame," he said softly. He ran his fingers down the side of her face and her face reddened from his touch. "A very ripe little strawberry," he said in a teasing tone.

She giggled at his antics. When he moved in to kiss her, she knew she probably should have moved back, but her instincts kicked in and she found herself lip locked with the family's newest dark-haired tease around the house. Only in her secret fantasies did this happen, but somehow it was reality and she indulged herself. This wasn't a quick peck on the cheek or a friendly kiss on the lips—it was much deeper than that and Bunny could immediately tell the difference. She reached out and ran her hand down his chest, but grew concerned when she felt the extraordinarily racing pace of his heart. She leaned back away from him now, her eyebrows subtly furrowed.

"Are you alright, sweetie?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," he said dizzily. There was a dreamy note in his voice that had not been there before. His eyes weren't quite focused on her anymore and he stepped back a little, apparently noticing something off, a sharp pain in his chest. "I think…"

He collapsed quite suddenly in front of her much to her horror. She gasped loudly and was momentarily shocked into stillness. Then she snapped back into action. She ran off to the phone hanging on the wall on the other end of the room and called emergency services. This couldn't wait long if she was right about what was happening. He wouldn't make it to Dende's hideout and as far as she knew, they didn't have any sensu beans stashed around the house. He needed attention immediately before it was too late. At this very moment, she wished she knew CPR. Not only would it have likely meant she could sneak in another kiss, it was the thing he needed desperately. Vegeta was in the gravity room again, a good ten-minute jog from the main house, and her husband could do nothing to help the situation.

Once she knew the ambulance was on the way and would be here within a couple minutes, she knelt down and felt for his chest. His heart had stopped altogether and she couldn't feel anything no matter how firmly she pressed.

* * *

 **Bra was woken up with a start as she felt herself being shaken.** Her forehead crinkled at the intrusion. Was it the next morning? Was she late for work again? Time had become quite screwy as of late. As her vision began to clear, she realized it was her mom.

"Bra, let's go. Bunny called. She had to get an ambulance to bring Malachi to the doctor. He's in intensive care."

"What?!" Bra shouted, sitting up quickly even in her dizziness.

"Let's go," her mother repeated.

"Alright," Bulma said quickly. That was when she realized she was completely naked and her mother was right there to see it. There was also a couple of reddened bruising on her shoulder from Malachi's enthusiastic lovemaking.

Bulma grinned only a little. "Nothing I haven't seen before. Meet me downstairs when you're ready."

It didn't take Bra long to throw on some clothes nevermind the miserably ruined sheets and covers of her bed. Her mother must have seen this as well and still hadn't said anything about it—maybe that too came as no surprise to her. She was downstairs in another second ready to go. Her stomach was starting to do flips and her growing guilt was threatening to swallow her whole. What had happened and was she to blame for it again? She never wanted to see him in a hospital and she never wanted to be the cause for it. Last time when she was directly responsible for his injuries, she could hardly bear it. This time…She really hoped she was wrong about the circumstances, but more than that, she hoped his recovery was speedy. Seeing him lying in some hospital bed day in and day out was nothing she wanted to deal with again yet here she was. At times he seemed so fragile and so very human. _Please, don't let me go through this again…_

Bulma did the driving and she drove with almost reckless abandon down the streets. No matter how fast she drove, however, Bra still felt as if an eternity passed before she was able to walk through the doors of the building and make her way to Malachi. His ki signature was so weak as to almost be nonexistent. He was hanging on by a thin thread. No one needed to tell her that, but still she sat and listened to the doctor once she got there.

Malachi was in the ICU; isolated in a sterile room. One could easily see inside the room through the large windows and she saw him small and unmoving in a hospital cot. She'd never seen so many wires coming out of one person. She was told that he had stopped breathing for approximately six minutes before they were able to resuscitate rudimentary heart functions. He suffered a heart attack first and then cardiac arrest—irregular heartbeats caused a complete disruption of the function. He was then induced into a coma so that he might recover, but the prognosis wasn't positive and his vitals were being closely monitored especially for any signs of brain damage. Now that his breathing was being automated, his chances were only slightly better. Most didn't last too much more longer afterwards, but Bra ignored this notion. Malachi couldn't die. It was impossible.

His condition was precarious at this point. Entering the room was being kept to a minimum—only one at a time and only if they wore a hospital jacket over their own clothes as well as provided gloves, and coverage over the mouth. Bra had to see him. Eventually, she was wearing the provided hospital garb over her clothes and finally she could have a closer look at him.

His coloring was awful, almost gray. A tube ran down his throat and another was inserted into one of his arms, wires came out of his arms, hands, and chest, the digital machine kept beeping incessantly. He looked more like a corpse than an actual living, breathing person. Tears sprang to her eyes even though she'd told herself that she wouldn't do that. Seeing him so weak and vulnerable made her realize just how silly she'd been. Nothing had been discovered about the cause as of yet—tests were still being run—but she knew. She had done this. She had made him weak.

"Malachi…?" she said despite herself. "I'm sorry. It's okay if you wound up hating me…just promise me you'll forgive me one day." _If that day ever came…_ She couldn't imagine him dying, but he looked to be knocking on death's door. She didn't fancy herself clairvoyant but this was nothing like her dream. Maybe that was something.

* * *

 **A week passed.** The mood was somber around the house. Someone was always visiting each day. Jensen lived at the hospital. He did his homework at the hospital and he barely came home from the place unless someone dragged him out. He and Bra were no longer talking. Every time he looked at her, she could hardly bear to hold his gaze for long. Bra still hadn't mentioned what she'd done to anyone and the doctors were still trying to figure out what had caused the event.

Malachi's condition improved somewhat and he was eventually moved to a regular hospital room. It seemed they were in the homestretch despite the dismal outlook of his health yet when she came to visit him, he still appeared weak and diminished. He wasn't out of the woods yet.

One day, the entire family came to visit him there at the hospital. Astor had come along as well and Bra found that she was relieved to have the strange girl around at least for Jensen's sake who was not responding well to the situation. He'd deliberately skipped school quite a few times, but no one had the heart to punish him for it. He at least still talked to Astor.

That was the same day the cause of his sudden collapse was discovered. Bra looked up first when the doctor—Dr. Hammerstein—entered the room. Her father who had been nearby instead of actually in the room entered as well sensing that the man had something to say.

"Alright," Dr. Hammerstein said as he took up his Epad, "The information I will be sharing with you today is confidential. As is dictated in his file, I've been given leave to discuss these things among everyone here today. After being diagnosed with the now rare disease known as lupus at the age of 14—"

"Hold on—what?" Bra asked. "You must have the wrong file. I've never heard him say one thing about this 'lupus'."

"I assure you, I have the right information. It isn't anything too earthshattering. Promptly, he began receiving treatment for it. Once every two years an injection is given and he's been quite good at keeping those appointments. As a result, the symptoms are virtually nonexistent. After ten rounds of this treatment, the disease is then cured and as a side note, he is a few months away from another injection. I only mention this because another foreign substance was found in his blood which reacted badly with the treatment. We've ruled out recreational drugs—"

"He doesn't do things like that," Bra said with a frown, " _I_ could have told you that."

"Stop interrupting him," Jensen said looking at her now.

It was the first thing he'd said to her in a long while. He caught her gaze for a moment and then she looked away. Bra took a deep breath and closed her mouth.

"Anyways," Dr. Hammerstein continued, "We've ruled out the usual suspects and we had our work cut out for us trying to figure out what that substance was." Bra had looked away now. She knew what it was. She wished he would say it already and rip off the Band-Aid. "We found what's known as Tribulus Terrestris in his system and quite a bit of it. This herb is known primarily for increasing sexual desire in men—a natural alternative to other drugs that do the same thing. A highly controversial herb in my opinion."

Bra stood up then before the man could continue. The guilt was eating her alive and she'd looked back at Malachi for the umpteenth time. All eyes were on her. She'd been quite withdrawn as of late. "Moon Juice Sex Dust," she said singularly.

The doctor looked at her at first confused and then knowingly, "Yes, a commercial brand featuring that herb primarily—"

"I know," Bra said. "I gave it to him in hopes that…Well, you know." She looked directly at the doctor, but she felt Jensen's hardened gaze.

From her peripherals she saw her father disappear from her view and by the time she turned towards him she found her father holding back the now incensed child.

"Of course!" he yelled out, "I _knew_ you had something to do with this!"

"Settle down, boy!" Vegeta ordered Jensen. He glanced up at Vegeta and he did seem to calm if only a little.

Bra stood her ground. "I had no idea that this would happen and he never told me anything about having lupus," she argued back.

"It doesn't matter," Jensen said back with anger still clearly in his tone, but he no longer had to be held back by Vegeta. Her father had stepped aside. "Whether you knew he had that or not. You really think that would have stopped you? You really think you would have known that _this_ would happen?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying," Bra said. It seemed like they were agreeing on something. "I didn't know."

"You don't know a lot," Jensen scoffed. "You _don't_ know that it's bad for someone to quit taking medicine that was specifically prescribed to them—"

"Wait, did something happen?" Bra asked a little worried.

"I don't know. He was away for an entire year and some months. Anything could have happened. But that's just plain stupid and selfish. And now this? There's no way he would have agreed to taking something like that. There's just no way."

"Jensen," Bra began slowly, trying her hardest to put down her defenses. There really was no reason to try and explain herself. No one cared. No one wanted to listen. Her eyes passed over the others in the room. Her father couldn't look at her, her mother's eyes were closed in disappointment. Her grandmother's gaze had fixated upon Malachi. Everyone else's—her grandfather and Astor—all wore expressions of clear disappointment and met her eyes. "I'm sorry," she said barely above a whisper. "I don't want to hurt anybody. I _never_ intend to do that."

Jensen shook his head. His mouth had become a tight line. He had no more to say to her—he didn't bother answering or acknowledging her. He simply sat down again. Bra turned back to the doctor with her confidence thoroughly shaken. "Will he be alright?"

The doctor wore an encouraging smile despite all the things he'd overheard. "Against all odds, he's managed to survive this far. There appears to be minimal damage to his brain. He's already breathing on his own again. Should this trend continue, we'll pull him out of his coma and he should recover smoothly on his own."

Bra couldn't help but smile at this. Malachi couldn't die. He was a survivor just like always.

"When do you think he'll be awake?" her mother asked.

"We'll continue to monitor him, but it could be as soon as tomorrow."

That was the best news that Bra had heard in a while. She walked over to Malachi's side and placed her hand upon his. It was warm and alive, but he was ultimately unresponsive. It didn't matter. Her eyes looked at the machine beside his bed and watched the curvy lines stringing across. She had no idea what it all meant.

"See the number right above the lines," the doctor said as he stepped over to his patient.

Bra nodded.

"That's his heartrate now slightly elevated—don't worry, it's not a bad thing. He's responding to your touch."

"He knows I'm here?" Bra asked.

"Not in a fully cognitive sense. It's purely reactionary. Still, that's a good sign."

 _Good_ , Bra thought to herself. Any good news no matter how small was something she cherished at that moment. Everything else was background noise to her one desire for his recovery.

* * *

 **Jensen had actually gone to school that day and he was anxious to get back to the hospital.** Since that day they had discovered Bra's involvement in Malachi's condition, the days following were touch and go for his father. He relapsed twice and Jensen had been there each time and watched as he was shocked over and over again. Jensen always imagined that his father had a strong heart, but it didn't seem that way as the complications continued. It made him more and more anxious. Leaving his side became a torturous affair and when he was apart from him, he wondered if his father was still doing alright or even alive.

Because he was there so often, it was no wonder that he was the first one to see Malachi open his eyes of his own accord. A couple good days had passed and his readings were looking better so said the doctor. It was a good sign, but Jensen was saddened by the fact that there was no recognition in his eyes. They were glazed over and empty. He wanted his father to look at him as he had before, but that was not to be.

It wasn't until the very next day that his father was truly awake. Jensen was glad to be the first person he saw coming out of his coma and he was certainly glad that it hadn't been Bra. Jensen could see the confusion in his eyes which, he realized, was completely understandable. Waking up in a hospital must have been quite jarring for him. Did he even know what happened to him? His eyebrows furrowed in growing frustration. He tried to speak, but nothing came forth from his mouth—it was still obstructed by a breathing tube.

"It's alright, Daddy, just calm down. You're in a hospital. You…almost died from heart failure. Do you remember all that?"

Malachi looked at him steadily now and attempted to speak, but once again no sound came forth.

"Just nod your head yes or no," Jensen said to the other.

Slowly, Malachi shook his head no though he grimaced at the effort.

"I wish I could ask you what you _do_ remember, but you can't talk right now. I know—maybe pen and paper?"

To this, his father nodded.

Jensen bent down and took out a piece of paper and a textbook for him to write on. He took out his best pen and attempted to hand it to his father. His hand resting on the bed moved unsteadily and it seemed to take a lot of effort. His father seemed in full concentration as he did so—it was a sad scene to watch. When his father attempted to write something, the words ended up being illegible. He couldn't seem to move his hand correctly. Jensen didn't say anything, but he struggled to read what his father was writing. Midway down the page, his father seemed to give up altogether, attempting and failing at throwing his writing utensils on the ground.

"It's alright, Daddy, I'm just glad you're alive," Jensen said making sure to smile at him to put him more at ease. "You just woke up after a few weeks. It'll just take some time to get used to things."

Jensen wanted to tell him about Bra, but he didn't think it was a good time for such distressing news. Jensen was grateful to see full alertness in his eyes. He was aware that he was there and that was a small victory. His eyes were wandering as Jensen assumed he was trying to get a better look of the room. Eventually, they returned to Jensen. He'd pulled his chair closer to the bed now so that he could be as close as possible and he reached out and placed his hand over his father's. Jensen had no idea what he _should_ be saying to him so he simply remained quiet. He placed his head upon the side of the bed near his hand.

 _Is this…Am I dreaming? Why am I here?_

The sound of his father's voice immediately took him by surprise. It was as if he was right beside him speaking perfectly and clearly. "Daddy? Was that you? Or am I really just going crazy right now?"

 _I have no idea…_

Jensen was watching him steadily. "That _is_ you, isn't it? Somehow." His father's mouth hadn't moved in the slightest and it was the only explanation. Only this had never happened before.

 _What are you talking about?_

Jensen looked about himself and then back at his father. "I'm talking about you. You're…whatever you're doing right now."

His father was confused again. Jensen could tell from his expression and he realized that he was likely not going to get a coherent explanation from him. Either he took things at face value or continue getting nowhere. He decided to test the waters.

"You're not dreaming right now," Jensen said as assuredly as he could. He wasn't even completely sure of this fact as he was now hearing his father's voice despite him being unable to speak. "Something happened back at home. Heart failure. And then you were rushed to the hospital."

 _Heart failure?_

His father's confusion remained. "What's the last thing you remember?" Jensen asked.

 _I remember turning in for the night with Bra. She…came back early that day. I was exhausted._

"Really? That's all? I think that was the day before it all happened."

 _Tell me what happened._

"I don't really know everything. I wasn't there. The next morning, you know how you're already up before me? Well, you were still asleep."

 _That's when it happened?_

"No," Jensen shook her head. "I think you were okay then. It's just, when I tried to get you up, you just wouldn't."

 _That doesn't make sense._

"I know, but that's what happened. Bra was still around. Jr. and Machi still needed to be fed—"

 _Are they alright? What happened to them?_

There was concern in his eyes now. "They're fine," Jensen reassured him not wanting to get the other worked up. "They're both perfectly fine and being taken care of."

 _Good. At least they're fine…Of course they are. Others would have seen to them even if I couldn't._

"Yeah, exactly."

 _So…when did I actually get up?_

"Some time after Bra took me to school. I was late. We had some breakfast and that's all. I got a call near the end of the day from Bulma about you collapsing in the dining room. When I got here, you were in the ICU."

 _I see. You were in school when it all happened. I guess I understand a little better. The next day something happened. Others can fill me in on the details. I wish I remembered more. It's all very strange, but I guess heart failure can happen to anyone. I'm so embarrassed. People seeing me like this. You seeing me like this. I feel so weak and tired._

"Daddy, you have nothing to be embarrassed about. If anything, against all odds, you survived. The doctors kept saying otherwise."

 _A regular miracle. A miracle to end up here once again._

Jensen found his hand again and then wrapped his own around it. "It is. It could have been far worse."

 _I know. Or at least now I do._

Jensen managed a smile for his father as he soon laid his head down on the bed again. His father looked uncomfortable and as far as he knew there was nothing he could do for it. Perhaps having a breathing tube down his throat wasn't helping matters and Jensen was sure he must have noticed all the tubes and wires attached to him. His movement would be limited. Now knowing what his father last remembered, this must have been more than just jarring, it must have been scary and surreal. Jensen could understand why he wanted to know immediately what had happened. He was glad he'd been there to explain things somewhat even if he did hold back information and didn't know enough to give him a full picture.

 _Tell me about school. How has that been?_

Jensen looked at him wearily, but then he quickly made his expression a little more neutral. "It's been okay. Still learning new things. I'm getting along better with people. I think I might have made some friends."

 _That sounds good. It's not as awful as you thought. I remember on that first day, I barely knew what to do with myself without you around._

Jensen smiled at this. "Really? I imagined you had some kind of celebration. That's why you sent me away 'cus you were tired of me being around so much."

 _Not at all. I didn't mind your company. I'm sure you noticed, I don't tend to have a lot of people coming in and out of the house. It's hard to know who to trust. It's easier just to keep to myself. Less drama. Way less drama. And you, I don't think I've ever known anyone as well as I know you._

"I'll always be on your side, Daddy, no matter what."

 _I'll always be on yours._

The smile that Jensen was already wearing remained for a while longer as he heard this. His father had never said as much before, but he knew. It had been unspoken. Jensen looked up when he heard the door to the room open. An unfamiliar man walked in. He was a dark-skinned man who wore a gray suit and a flat cap in precisely the same color.

"I think you have the wrong room," Jensen said to the approaching man.

"I think not," the man said. "I think I would know who my own son is."

The man's comment caught him off guard and he was momentarily speechless. "Wait, who are you?" Jensen asked.

"I could ask you the same question, kid."

Jensen looked back at his father and saw that he was already looking at the stranger who'd just entered. Jensen couldn't quite read the expression on his face.

 _Quint._

 _"_ What was that, Daddy?"

 _His name is Quint—the guy who adopted me. Produced most of my music._

"So he really is your...But you never said anything about him."

"Now hold on just a second, kid, who are you talking to? The man can't speak. He's got one of those tubes going down his throat. Wanna let me in on your little one-sided conversation?"

Jensen turned to look at him again now certain that he was the only one who could hear his father. He didn't know Quint well enough to tell him about what was happening. He shook his head instead to his question.

"So you're his son, huh? How old are you anyway?"

"Ummm...ten," Jensen said remembering to add two more years now that it had been that long since they agreed he was eight years old.

"Ho ho, ten? So my boy was around eighteen when he had you? I doubt it. I would've known about it."

 _Tell him there's a lot you don't know about me._

Jensen glanced back at his father when he heard this. He decided to just go along with it. "Well, there's a lot you don't know about him."

The man laughed at this. He was looking at Malachi. Their eyes were now locked on each other. "You can't hide from me, boy. I always know what you're doing."

 _You're just an old broken record. Take your scare tactics elsewhere. Ask him how he knew I was here._

"Umm...How did you know Daddy was here?" Jensen asked.

"Oh, that's easy," Quint said with a mischievous smile, "Saw you on the news again, then I made a few calls and here I am. I'm sure you've missed me."

 _Tell him to leave. Outside of work, I have no interest in seeing him._

Jensen looked at his father trying to determine if he meant what he said. When his father returned his gaze with a stony one, he knew he was being quite serious. Jensen looked at Quint nervously not used to saying things like this to strangers.

"I think—I think you should leave, sir. I don't think he wants you here."

"Of course he doesn't want me here," Quint said with another good natured laugh, "The boy can't even be bothered to call up his own father."

 _I see he's still playing the "father" card. Just keep on wracking up those sympathy points, old man. It'll amount to nothing._

Jensen was beginning to feel uncomfortable being caught in the middle of this apparent argument. He wished the man would just leave. Clearly his father didn't like him. Jensen didn't know for what reason, but he knew that it had be a valid one.

"I tell ya. I couldn't believe the news when I heard it. My boy in the hospital again. I don't know what it is you're doing, but you need to stop getting yourself hurt like this. Whatever company you're keeping doesn't seem like a good fit."

Jensen watched the other walk up the other side of Malachi's bed and his father's eyes followed him the entire time.

"I hate seeing you like this, you know," Quint said.

 _Yeah, he hates seeing his investment in such bad shape. Scared the moneyflow might stop._

Jensen kept his mouth closed. He didn't dare repeat this out loud.

"My boy," Quint said leaning a bit on the bed. His eyes looked over him and then at the monitor. "All hooked up like this. That's not what I ever want to see. You know they said you could've died."

It took Jensen a moment to notice that the other was choking up a bit. He had his hand to his mouth and he shook his head slowly. His eyes had reddened.

"I really didn't expect all this now," he said with his voice muffled somewhat. "Listen, I'm not blind. I know we're not on the best of terms, but I still care about you even if you think I don't. I know you have a strong heart, stronger than anyone I've ever known. Always so fearless. It was always you versus the world and now everybody knows who you are. You're invincible. You're immortal. I know it sounds silly, but that's what I've always thought of you. If I could, I would gladly take your place. You don't deserve this—not you."

Tears were streaming down the man's face now and even Jensen was beginning to feel a burning sensation in his eyes. Jensen noticed that his father's eyes had become moist.

 _He keeps this up and we'll all be in tears._

For a good few minutes all the man did was shed quiet tears as he looked over Malachi. Jensen watched as his father slowly, but surely raised his right hand so that he could touch that of Quint's which was nearby. Quint looked up startled and then he placed another one of his thick, short hands upon Malachi's slender one's. A brief smile came to the man's face. Jensen had a feeling that he wasn't used to smiling as it seemed to pain him to do even this.

"Still cold-blooded, huh? I always put it at a balmy 80 degrees for you 'cus I knew you'd like it. Hospitals are cold places, aren't they?"

 _Freezing in here actually._

Jensen grinned at his father's comment. He watched as Quint cupped his large hands securely around Malachi's and pressed gently. Then he slowly began rubbing.

"Just like an icicle," he commented. He did this for a while before doing the same to his other hand, reaching over to do so. "I don't want to overstay my welcome. I just wanted to see you. I'd like to say that you're doing well after that insane touring, but...I know you'll get better. You always do. If there's ever anything that you need, you have my number. I won't hold my breath though," Quint said with a chuckle.

 _I'll think about it._

Quint looked over at Jensen, acknowledging him once again. "I don't know where you came from-I won't ask any questions, but, man, it's hard to deny that you're his son. When I look at you, I feel like I'm staring back into the past. Ten years old, huh."

Jensen nodded his head.

"He always wore his hair shorter than that," Quint continued, "Never had bangs to obscure that face of his. Well, I made sure of that." Quint stood up straighter.

 _He made sure of a lot of things._

Jensen could hear the double meaning in his father's tone. Quint turned to Malachi again finding his eyes.

"Whoever did this to you is going to get what's coming to them. I know there's some foul play at work here. A perfectly healthy man suddenly collapsing without any prior history? Just be careful, alright? We only get one life and I want you to be the one who buries me-not the other way around. I don't know what I'd do if that happened."

Quint sniffed a little afterwards, but he left abruptly. Jensen watched him go.

"You don't like him very much, do you?"

 _Once upon a time, I did. He was everything to me. I was grateful and I still am, but a lot of things happened between us. A lot of bad things. A lot of misunderstandings. I'm not sure if I'm ready to let all that go just yet. He seemed more concerned than usual. Who knows why. For now, I can barely keep my eyes open anymore._

"That's alright, you don't have to stay awake for me. I'll be fine."

 _I wonder though, what place will I find myself next?_

Sensing some unease from his father, Jensen looked at the other unblinkingly in an attempt to reassure him as he spoke. "Whatever happens, I'll be there. You won't be alone."

 _You promise?_

"I promise."

Jensen leaned against the bed with his elbows, his hands held up his head. With a small grin, his father managed to run a hand down the back of his head. Malachi seemed to be able to move his arm and wrist well enough, but his individual fingers seemed stiff. Carefully, Jensen sat down again and laid his head upon the bed. It didn't take long for his father to drift off again. They shared a bed again, but it was much different. All Jensen could hear was the assisted breathing of the machine. It was a depressing sound to listen to, but he knew it was necessary for his father's continued living. Jensen was sure the machines were pumping plenty of medicine into his system and the wires continued to monitor his vitals. This was by no means a cutting-edge hospital, but it was the closest one to the CC compound. Bulma had demanded that Malachi be taken to a different, better hospital, but his father had been too at risk to travel any long distance. She'd complained about the old-fashioned equipment the hospital still used. Wireless technology was now available along with scanners that could accurately pinpoint quite a few common diseases and cancers. At the very least, there wouldn't be as many wires, but Jensen had a feeling that that dreaded tube going down his throat would have still been there.


	63. Home Again

**It had just turned to night and Pan was running a bit late as she headed up to the hospital again.** She'd gone a few times in the past and stayed only for a little while. He'd been in an induced coma before and there had not been much to see. Almost always Jensen was there. She'd taken it upon herself each time to take him home knowing that he had likely been there the whole day, completely neglecting school. She'd heard the recent good news that he was awake again as well as making a good recovery despite the odds not being in his favor. Every time the doctor spoke about how lucky Malachi had been, she took it for granted. She never once thought that he would die. In fact, she was sure everyone else shared the same feelings, but those phrases kept being repeated: "he was lucky", "against all odds", "nothing short of a miracle", "he was more likely to die than to live". Yet these things fell on deaf ears. Malachi wouldn't die from something like this. Not after all they'd been through. Some mundane, very human incident could not best the likes of Malachi. She knew such sentiments logically held little weight in reality. The fact of the matter was that he was just as vulnerable as any other human she'd met and this entire affair had reminded everyone of this fact in the most painful way possible. Even if no one could imagine him actually dying from this, it could happen all in the blink of an eye and there would be nothing they could do about it. There was now no way to bring anyone back from death. That fact must have been in the back of everyone's mind.

Pan stepped out of her car after parking it and then used her capsule to miniaturize the vehicle—she'd likely be flying home tonight. Driving was purely an activity she did to appear somewhat normal and attract less attention from people she knew at work. As she walked down the sidewalk, she thought she saw a familiar form in the distance. Her senses now wide awake at the prospects, her stride increased somewhat. Auden came into perfect view—the blond man was sitting down on a bench near the entrance of the hospital. He wasn't fully engrossed in his phone since he acknowledged her before she had the chance to say anything.

"We have to stop meeting like this," Pan said with a subtle smile.

"Perhaps, though it gives me something to look forward to. Hospitals aren't exactly the fondest of places to visit."

"Last time wasn't so bad," Pan said remembering that everyone's somber expectations had been turned on its head.

"Indeed."

"To be honest, I don't really have much of an impression of the place. But I do know that Grandpa hated it, well, at least shots."

"It appears my relationship with hospitals is a bit more intimate than yours. To most it is a place that is unavoidable."

 _Not for me,_ Pan thought to herself as she decided to sit down beside him.

"But," Auden continued as his eyes had followed her movement, "for some reason, I don't think that will ever apply to you."

"And what gave you that impression?"

"Just a hunch."

She wondered just how much Auden knew about them. Always, he kept his cards close to his chest. Did he know about their world? Was he simply pretending to be a casual bystander?

"So," Pan said after a moment, "What brings you out here? Still overly concerned about Bra?"

"Malachi is the one who's in critical condition. Who she dates is none of my concern. My daughter wanted to visit. She knew Jensen was here."

"Oh, that's right; Astor. I guess that's a good thing. Jensen hasn't been taking any of this very well."

"Not knowing whether the person closest to you is going to live or die is not the easiest thing to deal with especially not for a child."

"Yeah," Pan agreed, "And it seems like they're really close—that's what Bra told me anyway."

"So has Astor."

For a while, Pan sat in his company quietly, strangely content despite all that was happening. She wondered about the black ring he wore on his right hand. Did it mean what she thought? Would she be better off just assuming and never really knowing? After a few more minutes, Pan finally got up the courage to ask the question.

"That ring that you're wearing—does it mean anything significant?"

Auden looked down at his hand regarding the ring and then turned his gaze to her. "It's a plain ring, not meant to draw attention and no one has ever shown any interest in it." There was a subtle grin on his face or at least Pan thought she saw his mouth curve up a bit. "It means exactly what you think it does."

His answer hadn't been definitive, but she still hoped that they were on the same page. "You don't exactly strike me as the person who'd make something like that so obvious."

"Most people have no idea. Its purpose isn't to make things more obvious." He rotated the ring a few times with his thumb on the same hand. "For a long time, I was ashamed of who I was. I knew I was different from a very young age, but I always wanted to be like everyone else. I believed it was the source of all my misfortune. This ring serves as a reminder that such things are not true. Convincing oneself the opposite of what they've been thinking for most of their lives can often be trying."

"And is it working?" Pan asked.

He took a short moment to answer. "Little by little."

"That's good to hear," Pan said with a nod. "Even that. I suppose I never had an issue with that sort of thing. The hard part was trying to convince others that I wasn't lying. People can be really hardheaded."

"Sometimes it's difficult to convince others that there are things that exist outside of the norm. People see what they want to believe."

"I totally agree. And it just makes everything so much more difficult." Pan stood up after this realizing that her time was running short and she hadn't even begun the thing she'd come to do. "Sorry, I would love to chat some more, but I still need to visit Malachi," she said with a laugh.

"By all means," he replied. "Fair warning, Bra is already inside. She came not too long before you."

"She is? And Jensen's there too?" Pan asked worriedly.

"I'm sure they'll all be civil on account of Malachi. Jensen's regard for his father likely trumps all else."

"I hope so. Well, thanks for the heads up."

Auden gave her a small nod before she made her way to the sliding entrance doors. Just as she stepped through the doorway, she realized that she'd forgotten to give Auden something. First, she looked around and then went to the front desk to ask for a small piece of paper and pen. When this was given to her, she quickly wrote down her number. Then, without further ado, she made her way back and then finally held it out to him.

"What?" he asked at first as he hesitantly took the small piece of paper.

"Call me when you get the chance."

"Oh, I see," he said after a moment as he was likely taking in the fact that he'd just been given her number.

"Sorry, I'm really bad at this sort of thing—am I being too forward?"

"I have no idea, but it seems like an efficient way to exchange numbers."

"You don't have to give me yours—I'll know once you call me," she said. "Just seems like…Perhaps we could hang out besides at a hospital all the time."

"Perhaps," he began. His eyes became distant as he looked at the note, "but—" Pan held her breath waiting for his rejection. "But" was never a good word to hear when juxtaposition next to a favorable reply. "What time would be appropriate to call you?" he finished much to her surprise.

Pan smiled at the other as she noticed subtle confusion in his features. It let her know that she was not the only one terrible at this. He was likely even worse. "No need to make concrete plans. You know when I'm off work."

He folded the paper then. "I understand."

She grinned at him. "Don't make me wait forever."

She turned and then made her way to the hospital. She wondered if the other was watching her. When she glanced back, she realized he wasn't; he had his attentions on his phone again. What was she expecting anyway? He would have no motivation to watch her like that.

Now, however, she had other things to worry about. Quickly, she took the elevator up and briskly walked down the hall to Malachi's room. Before she made it there, she could already see two children standing outside the door.

"Hey, Pan," Astor said first.

Jensen looked thoroughly upset as he leaned against the wall with crossed arms.

"Hey," she replied. "What's wrong? Did something happen?" Pan asked seeing him.

"Bra's inside," Jensen said looking up at her. "She asked if she could talk to Daddy alone. I don't like it."

"How's he doing?" Pan asked.

"Really well," Astor said encouragingly, "The doctor said they'd like to keep him for just one more day to make sure he's alright to leave."

"Wow, I had no idea his recovery was this far along."

"Yeah," Jensen said with a sigh.

"Isn't that good news?" Pan asked the moody child.

"It is," he agreed, "There's just some things I noticed…Maybe it's just my imagination…"

"Maybe it is," Pan said with a smile for his sake. "You'll see. Everything will be fine once he's back home again, I'm sure."

"I hope so."

Pan had no choice but to wait outside as well. It likely wouldn't be a good idea to interrupt anything that those two were talking about. It seemed that was always their issue, actually talking to each other, but not only that, understanding what the other was trying to convey.

* * *

 **"Malachi, you're not upset, are you?" Bra said after she finished telling him exactly what had occurred.** For the first time, he had gotten the full story from her or at least the parts which had probably been a mystery to him. He'd been quiet ever since. One minute had passed and then another.

"I don't know," he finally said with a sigh. He was sitting up in bed now and his coloring had improved immensely. Were it not for the wires that still came from him, he'd look completely well. She'd also brought him a few grooming supplies so that he could at least do something with his hair. "It's so typical of you. That's what I signed up for, right?" he said as he looked away from her.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"I heard you the first million times," he replied. He still wasn't looking at her. "I know. It's just…unfortunate how things turned out."

She felt relieved now that she had gotten it all off her chest, but she was even more relieved that he was taking things somewhat well. She imagined it being far worse. She imagined their entire relationship falling apart, but she'd forgotten how Malachi usually looked at thing. Even as she'd accidently broke him in half the first time they'd gotten into bed together, his initial response wasn't to blame her or be angry at her. He wanted to understand things. He wanted to see things for what they truly were. "How come you didn't tell me about that disease you had."

Now he turned his head to her. "I guess that's a habit of mine too, not telling you certain things about myself. I don't want to appear weak in your eyes. I don't want you to decide one day that I'm not worth the trouble. I don't know if I could survive something like that again. So I hesitate, always wondering if this thing or the other will make me completely undesirable in your eyes. I know its selfish."

"I had no idea you thought that way," Bra said looking at him in a different light, "I sorta just thought you were putting up with me for the sake of the kids. When I asked you to come back home, you didn't exactly seem in any hurry to be with me again."

"Wouldn't that be the epitome of being desperate if I did that? That's the last thing I wanted you to think. You were the one who broke things off in the first place. Clearly, you didn't need me as much as I needed you."

"That's not true," she said a little bit too loudly. She quieted herself. "I was just being stupid and rash. Can you really blame me? You just sprung that on me out of nowhere. I had thought that this was your way of telling me that you didn't want to be with me much longer. Truthfully, I didn't know what to think so I did what I thought was the safest thing at the time."

"You still don't really believe me about that," he said after a moment.

Bra held his gaze for a long moment and then finally nodded. "I've looked up a lot of things. Read a lot of articles, but it's still hard to wrap my head around."

"I can see that. I really don't know how else to say it. And why didn't you just _tell_ me you were feeling so neglected. That kind of thing is so unimportant to me that sometimes I forget about it altogether. What's _not_ unimportant is how you feel and what you want."

"If I actually said anything, that would come across so…Well, you'd be really annoyed. You said you'd be."

Malachi looked amused at her explanation. "I'd be annoyed? That's never stopped you before."

"Everything had been going so well lately. I didn't want to ruin things…like I always do."

"How about next time you let me know what's on your mind whether I'd be annoyed about it or not?"

Bra grinned and then laughed. "I'll see what I can do." Hearing him say this, it seemed ridiculous that she'd been so concerned about it before. She'd wanted everything to stay the way it was. It had been a long time since they'd truly been together for such a long span of time. She cherished even a few months of such bliss. "And how about you stop trying to think you have to be so macho all the time for me to like you—just tell me what's wrong. I won't think any less of you. I can't help you if you never tell me things."

"Alright," he replied after a moment. "I don't think I've ever been so candid about that to anyone."

"I thought you knew by now. We're in this together no matter what."

"I guess it takes some time getting used to."

"What happened last time when you told me about yourself, I won't ever let that happen again, okay?"

"We'll just have to see, now won't we?" he said back with an ominous note to his tone.

Bra tsked at him. "Is there anything else you'd like to tell me, Malachi, since we've both agreed to be more open about things."

Bra knew suddenly that this was exactly the case as there was a subtle, easy-to-miss surprise in his expression. What else could there be? How many layers could an onion really have? She braced herself for anything he might say next. Perhaps she'd spoken too soon about being completely open. Surely there was a reason he kept certain things to himself. It wasn't as if there was nothing in the world that Malachi could say about himself that would cause her to think twice about being with him. She had her standards as well. She'd like to think, however, that she'd at the very least be able to think rationally instead of completely cutting him off.

"I haven't told you much about my time touring," he began.

"I thought maybe because it was boring."

"Not exactly the first word I would use to describe it."

"I'm sure you loved all the women fawning over you."

"Oh, yes, that's the thing I was most looking forward to when I knew you wouldn't be there to see," he said mischievously.

Bra shook her head at his antics. "Alright, get on with your story."

He sighed. "Women fawning all over me aside, each concert was really taxing on me. I know that sounds odd coming from a guy who sometimes trains with your father, but performing is so much more different from that. The singing part takes it to a whole new level of exertion and there's only a few instances of lip syncing in the entire performance. People expect that of me. People would start to feel as if they didn't get their money's worth if I'm not singing live for a good portion of the show. And I don't blame them. When the touring began, I really couldn't sleep at the end of the day and it was made even worse since I was so wired by then. All that adrenaline, all that excitement made it impossible. I was going days without actually sleeping and that was just pure torture after a while. I hadn't even made it through a month yet."

"Malachi, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have thrown away that medicine. I was regretting it even before you left."

"That's water under the bridge now, isn't it? I also agreed with you, if you remember. I could have gone back at any time to refill my prescription, but I didn't. I hate taking medication anyways."

"Still…"

"That's just how it turned out in the beginning. As you probably realized, I couldn't go on like that. When I was able to take something once again for that, it didn't help me at all. It had no effect on me. I was still staring at the back of my eyelids and that's if I managed to make it into the bed."

"So what did you do?"

"Quint had asked for my PCP to fly in specifically to see to me. It was quite serious by then. He administered propofol and benzodiazepine—I know, a mouthful—intravenously at night to me and that was the thing that seemed to do the trick. I'd fallen asleep for the first time in days. But it was only a quick fix. My doctor—Connor Murran—warned me that it was highly addictive and that it should only be used for a short while and for emergency purposes."

Bra didn't like where this was headed. He seemed fine now, however. Whatever had happened was long over.

"Sixteen months is not considered a 'short while', but I had him give that to me almost every night."

"Malachi, seriously?" Bra said horrified at this. "Why?"

"Because every time I didn't have it, I couldn't sleep."

"And why did this Connor Murran agree to even do that for so long if he knew the risks?"

"You know how it is, Bra, money talks. That doctor would do anything for you so long as you paid the right price. On the last leg of the touring, I knew I had to stop because I didn't want to have to deal with all that back at home. Just cold turkey, I stopped, but it wasn't easy. The worst of it was done before I ever stepped back into the house. By then, it wasn't an issue anymore—I was so tired that it was easy falling asleep. After it was all said and done, I was exhausted and sore all over. I didn't trust myself with drugs anymore and I decided it would just be better to recover naturally rather than taking something for the pain. Being with you again, seeing everyone again, I didn't want to take any more risks."

"High risk behavior," Bra said to herself remembering what her mother had said before.

"What was that?" Malachi asked.

"I'm just glad you were able to get a handle on it. And…I know that must have been a bit difficult telling me all that. I could have gone on not knowing a thing about it. Just like your lupus. I guess I keep forgetting that you are human and that you have to deal with things that I never have to. For the record, that doesn't make me think you're weak."

"Maybe I'm just too used to hiding those things. I remember when I was younger, Quint was so afraid of me getting older, afraid that I might lose popularity overnight that he used to have me lie about my age for as long as possible. I was ten, but I would tell people that I'm eight. My voice had deepened, but I was told to use a lighter tone while in the eyes of the public—I still do that too."

Bra chuckled. "Yeah, I noticed. I thought it was kind of weird because I know you sound a lot different at home. That's why it took me so long to believe you were actually who you said you were."

"I guess it's too late to change that now, but then I hardly do interviews anymore."

"I hated the ones I saw you in. Rather intrusive questions. Guess it's hard trying to keep your composure under those circumstances."

"It is—even with practice."

"So," Bra said looking him over, "Is that all your secrets now? You're not going to die in a few days are you?" she asked jokingly.

His expression was not nearly as amused. "Anything could happen in a few days. Let's just take it one day at a time."

Bra immediately grew suspicious again. "How are you feeling?"

"Better than yesterday."

"Not very descriptive," she commented.

"I'm still in a hospital hooked up to a machine so no, I don't exactly feel like leaping out of bed.

"That's alright," Bra said stepping closer and placing a hand on his shoulder. "You'll get better eventually."

"But I doubt it would be like before."

"What do you mean?" Bra asked.

"They're already talking about sending me home and I feel like I'm nowhere near what I used to feel like. I don't think this is something I can simply 'get better' from. I think there's been permanent damage."

"How about we just let the doctor tell us everything before assuming things."

"Yeah, we'll just have to see."

Malachi looked unconvinced and Bra wondered if he was right. She didn't want him to be right—it would make her feel even worse than she already did. Was there something wrong now with his heart? Could he not do the things that he used to do?

"If that's all, tell the kids they can come back in. I know they must be getting pretty impatient by now."

Bra simply obliged, suddenly not willing to protest. Clearly, he was done talking and she supposed she'd gotten a good bit of information from him. Jensen was glad to see him again. Bra was unprepared for Pan, but she wasn't surprise. The woman felt the need to visit him every other day. While it annoyed her, she knew that Malachi enjoyed her company and she couldn't take that from him. It was all she could do to not send her away even if she was her friend. They spoke so easily to one another—she wished it was the same between her and Malachi.

* * *

 **Dr. Connor Murran knew that he was onto something big and after he was contacted by two other medical professionals—Rosenbach and O'neal—stationed in some hicktown in the middle of nowhere, it only confirmed his suspicions.** They'd done their own research delving quite deeply into the strangeness of Malachi's genetic information. Their research had been the key he was looking for and supplemented his own quite beautifully. The blood sample which he had obtained from Malachi contained the secrets of humanity's full potential. He'd isolated the piece of his DNA which seemed to give him superhuman abilities. He'd then began immediately testing the compound on lab rats before graduating to bigger and bigger animals enhancing its effect each time. All had turned out successful. Whatever he found seemed to meld well with all manner of DNA.

By now he'd gathered enough data to be approved for human testing. What he'd discovered would be better than steroids, better than herbal alternatives, better than even hard work itself—this could make the human race far more powerful altogether. It could give them power beyond reckoning and he was sure the world would soon be clamoring to get their hands on it.

The real question that had been bothering him was why, if Malachi possessed such strength and prowess, did he not choose to make it known? He knew Quint had no idea, otherwise he would have told him already considering how much he depended on him to keep tabs on Malachi. This was something that the singer had kept to himself selfishly. All that potential he seemed to possess and he left the world that he claimed to love so much through his music to suffer on silently.

The applications to what he'd found was far reaching and he planned to capitalize on it as soon as possible. He was nowhere near marketing his findings, but he was well on his way. There was one small problem he faced, however. He needed written consent that he could use Malachi's blood in his own personal research. Considering how much he'd done for Quint, he imagined he'd be able to work something out with the man. Dr. Murran wasn't overly concerned.

* * *

 **Bra woke up with a start.** It was the same dream resurfacing again—the one she'd had when she'd broken up with him and sent him away. She would walk into the room full of paramedics to find Malachi who was no longer breathing, no longer alive. Why did it have to start up again? She thought she was done worrying about Malachi in that way. He'd survived. He'd come home from the hospital. Of course, that was where the good news ended.

A month had passed and soon it became clear to everyone that Malachi was not the same. Bra knew it already. She'd been there as the doctor told him his prognosis. The doctor had painted a bleak picture at least for the first six months. He couldn't exert himself too much, he had to stay away from certain foods, completely avoid alcohol, and make sure to take the heart medication prescribed to him. He would be monitored closely and it was required that he visit the doctor weekly. Though he had minimal brain damage, there was still enough to change things physically. The doctor assured him that it was minor, but for Malachi it was devastating. His coordination wasn't quite what it used to be. Though he could always practice and improve on this, it would be impossible to retain the same prowess he had before the incident. At the time, Bra had been encouraging not realizing how much this would affect him.

She'd been idling in the dining room one day when she overheard Bunny's sympathetic tones all throughout the time they were in the kitchen cooking. She'd heard a knife fall to the ground.

"It's alright, honey, I can do the cutting. Really, it's okay."

Bra heard only silence after and then what sounded like a wooden spoon stirring a thick sauce. As the cooking continued, Bra heard Bunny repeat the same phrase "that's alright, honey" at least three more times. Eventually, she smelled something burning, then the sound of washing, and then of a pan falling into the sink several times. Finally, as she listened intently now, she heard Malachi speak to Bunny in a quiet tone.

"You don't need my help anymore. I'm just slowing you down."

"Sweetie, we can take as long as we need to get this done. It's not a race."

Malachi seemed to ignore the woman as he simply left the kitchen without responding and Bra was soon face-to-face with him. Maybe he must have read something in her eyes because his expression conveyed only annoyance as he looked at her.

"Malachi—

"I'll be outside on the porch," he said cutting across her.

Bra watched him leave sensing that he just wanted to be alone. After that day, she hardly ever saw him in the kitchen. If she was being completely honest with herself, she was beginning to see less of him. At dinner when they all gathered at the table together, he would have nothing to add to the conversation. He appeared upset and when anyone spoke to him, he was especially antagonizing. Of course, he would eventually wound up in an argument with her father and that was never a pretty sight. This happened on more than one occasion and Malachi never had the sense to back down. Everyone at the table knew that this was dangerous not for Vegeta, but for Malachi who was told not to work himself up to this level. Eventually, Malachi opted to take dinner elsewhere away from the others. Bra would sometimes join him, but it was never any fun—he was simply in a bad mood continuously.

When Bra noticed that he joined her in bed less and less, she assumed he was with Jensen, but when she finally checked, she realized he was downstairs in the living room. Curious, she made her way to him.

She found him laid out across the long couch in a darkened living room. He was too tall for it and had to bend his legs, but that was something he did anyways.

"Malachi? What are you doing down here? There's a perfectly comfortable bed upstairs."

"I noticed," he said, his tone already charged with sarcasm.

"I didn't come down to argue," Bra warned him, "I'm just curious."

"Look on the table," he said with a sigh.

Bra's eyes made out a notebook with a pen set beside it. She stepped over and picked it up. As she began to flip the pages, she began to see what at first seemed like random lines. It took her a moment to realize that it was the same set of letters repeated over and over again, though the handwriting was strange and nearly illegible. Finally, on the last page she realized that the name "Malachi" had been what was being spelled out yet all the lines were crooked and uneven. The letters seemed to be sliding off the page.

"Is this yours?" Bra asked. "What are you showing me?"

"That masterpiece you hold in your hands—it's most certainly mine."

A burning sensation sprung up in her eyes when she realized that what she'd seen were the countless attempts at writing his name properly on a sheet of paper. She'd seen his handwriting before; neat and fanciful. She closed the notebook quickly. What she'd seen in there could hardly be called handwriting.

"Are you sure?" Bra asked uncertainly. She wondered if there wasn't some kind of mistake.

Malachi remained silent, apparently not feeling the need to answer her. She supposed in hindsight, that it was probably a stupid question. She opened the notebook again and flipped through it slowly.

"You're getting better," she said trying to find something positive to comment on.

"How nice," Malachi replied in a pretentiously pleasant tone.

"It's not like people write things down anymore anyway—you can use keyboards."

"Ah, yes, I can hunt and peck to my heart's content."

Bra almost protested thinking that one could type words pretty quickly perhaps even faster than writing, but then realized that typing skills still required coordination albeit a different kind. "Even so," she said, "It's better than nothing and it's not like you have any practical use for handwriting things—that's just something you like to do."

"I'm sure no one will want my autograph ever again."

Bra had all but forgotten about this. Considering he'd just finished touring and his latest album was still going strong, she supposed there were a lot of people in the world who desperately wanted his autograph and Malachi had never shied away from doing such things for his fans.

"As long as it comes from you, what does it matter what it looks like?" she asked.

"I've been signing things the same way for as long as I can remember. The moment it changes, I doubt anyone would consider it authentic."

"Maybe it would be even more authentic," Bra said thoughtfully.

He tsked not even giving her comment a second thought.

"Are you gonna' come back upstairs?" Bra asked.

"I'd rather stay here," he stated plainly.

"On that small couch that doesn't even give you room to stretch out? It'll get pretty uncomfortable," Bra finished in a singsong voice.

"I don't care."

"Listen, Malachi," Bra started as she stepped further into the living room closer to his head. She squatted down so that she could see his face clearly. "I know it sucks, but you don't have to go through this alone."

His eyes had found hers and they seemed like bottomless pits. She found herself sinking into a very dark place. "And what exactly can you do for me?" he said sharply. "You want to hear me whine about how I can't do this or that? It won't change anything."

"I just want you to talk to me. It's like you've been avoiding me ever since you came home."

"That wasn't intentional," he said slowly. "But lately, I've wanted to be alone. I get so jealous seeing that everyone can just do things so easily. I wouldn't wish this on anyone, but I still feel that way almost all the time. I can't help it. I don't think it will ever be the same no matter how much I try. Every time I do, it feels like there's no point."

"I understand," Bra began.

"Do you?" Malachi asked interrupting her. "Or are you just saying things because it sounds right?"

"Really, I do. Jealousy isn't a new thing to me."

"That's right. Every time there's a woman within a stone's throw of me, you're already getting suspicious."

"Well, you didn't have to say it like that."

"I call it like I see it and you haven't changed much."

"Why is this suddenly about me? I came down here for you and it's like you don't want me here. All this talk about wanting to be alone. Well, newsflash, you're _not_ alone, you're in a relationship with me. I can't just let you stay down here."

"Is our relationship so fragile that you need me by your side at all hours of the day? I _live_ here. You see me every day. I just want to lie here in peace away from everyone."

"So then you can wallow in self-pity for the rest of the night?" Bra said matter-of-factly. "Because that's exactly what you're doing and that isn't helping anything."

"I prefer it here even still."

"Damn it, Malachi, why are you being so impossible right now?"

Malachi who'd been holding her gaze chose this time to turn his back to her. He sighed heavily. "Just leave me be, Bra. I don't feel like arguing with you for the rest of the night. It's getting way too late for all that."

Bra was staring at his back fuming now. "You're really being serious right now," Bra said with a huff. "You're really shutting me out."

"I don't know what else to say. I don't feel like _thinking_ of anything else to say. But if you really feel so left out and unfulfilled, you can always do what you usually do when things aren't going your way."

"What's that?" Bra asked hotly.

"Kick me out."

Bra was silenced for a while not even imagining that he would say such a thing. "Why would you—I would never—

"Tch, right. Like you haven't done it before."

"Is this what this is all about? You're still on that? I thought we moved on from that."

"Sure, but it's pretty difficult to forget."

"What about what I told you at the hospital? We're in this together no matter what."

"You've said things like that before plenty of times," he chuckled briefly, "We were barely dating and you were already talking about forever. And I believed you too. I thought it was a given. Even if there were bumps in the road, we'd never leave each other." His voice had become quieter. "But that isn't true, is it? Whenever you see fit, you've gotten rid of me every time."

"You were the one who did it first," Bra reminded him.

He was quiet for a while, apparently considering her words. "You're right."

Bra waited for him to say more, but it never came. "Is there nothing I can say to convince you to come to bed with me?"

He still didn't respond. Short of physically grabbing him and forcing him to talk, there was nothing more she could do. She waited a while longer before finally taking her leave.

This wasn't the last time something like this occurred. Every once in a while, he would join her at night, but even if he did, he never felt like talking. She had a sense as to why he was acting this way, but she was starting to think that he was blowing things out of proportion. Were things really so bad? Or was he just making it that way? He wasn't usually so doom and gloom and Bra wasn't exactly equipped to deal with that kind of attitude. All that positivity he seemed to have before had simply vanished replaced with the sense that he had simply given up altogether.

Not surprisingly, she and Jensen were not on speaking terms. He actively avoided her. She didn't even begin to cross that bridge. She'd asked her mother to speak with him because she couldn't think of anyone else who could help her. Malachi seemed utterly against her or at least talking to him had become a frustrating endeavor and everyone knew her own father failed miserably with such things. Though her mother said she was working on him, Jensen continued in his stubborn crusade of either ignoring her completely or just getting on her nerves. Jensen didn't respect her and quite frankly she was at her wit's end with him.

What was clear to her and from what her mother had told her, the two of them just needed space. Her mother recounted to her many times in which Vegeta had been the same way. Apparently, it hadn't been all sunshine and rainbows between them. He'd do worse, her mother claimed. He'd disappear altogether, leaving the planet and spending months on his own. It wasn't likely Malachi would do such a thing since he had no idea how to pilot a spaceship, but it was food for thought nonetheless. Essentially her mother had told her for the purpose of cheering her up, that despite how terrible things seemed now, it could be far worse. Instead of trying to force things, Bra decided to follow her mother's advice and distance herself a little from him. Malachi was difficult to be around anyway so it wasn't too hard.

Because technically they still shared a room, Malachi kept his medication there. Bra, in what had become a habit, read over the two pill bottles thoroughly. Once again, she was upset with the side effects. They seemed just as likely to kill him as they were to actually help him and one of them was both mood altering and could cause the very thing that had put him into this situation to begin with. Was this the best medicine to be taking? After doing a little research of her own, she found that this in fact, was the best heart medication on the market now. It was ridiculously expensive and had a high success rate. There was nothing more she could ask for except for this ordeal to be over. Maybe the medicine was affecting his mood, maybe it was completely of his own design. She was sure after the first sixty days when he realized that he was fine and didn't have to worry so much just as the doctor had discussed with them, he wouldn't feel the need be this way any longer. He'd come back to her.

At the very least, their two smallest children were largely unaffected by this. When Malachi was around them, Bra could see the remnants of what he used to be like. The way he acted towards them, all smiles and laughs, was apparently instinctual rather than merely putting on an act. But more and more he was leaving them in the care of either Bunny or her mother. When she came home from work, he wouldn't be with them, he wouldn't be with anyone for that matter, he'd just be alone and it was a depressing thing to see on a daily basis.

That day, he was just idling in a darkened living room. The television wasn't on and he was hardly paying attention to his phone.

"Hey," Bra said with a brief smile.

"Hey," Malachi replied simply. He didn't bother with meeting her gaze.

"Heard your music on the radio back to back," Bra said as she sat down on the arm of the couch he was sitting in.

"Yeah?" he said, only a little interested.

"And it's been awhile since your album's come out. That has to be some kind of record."

"I suppose," he said with a sigh.

"All that hard work paid off."

"Surprisingly, despite not exactly making myself visible to the media."

"Maybe you don't need all that. "

"I was supposed to do a few live performances, appear on a few talk shows, but I ended up canceling them. Quint is positively livid."

"Quint, your fa—

"Producer," Malachi said cutting over her. "He's my producer, but if I ever make any new music, I'll find someone different. Music keeps changing after all and there's a lot of new talented people out there who I could collaborate with."

This was the first time that Malachi had talked about the future so definitively. Usually when she asked, he often left her with the feeling that he had no idea.

"It's career suicide to leave so many people hanging. I understand Quint's worry, but I haven't told him the reason I couldn't do those gigs. I don't know if he could handle it."

"Your…condition? The doctor said it wouldn't be a good idea to overexert yourself."

"It's not like it would be a concert. Just a couple of songs and that would be it—I wouldn't actually tire myself out from that."

"So then, maybe you can just reschedule, right? Do it when you feel like you can."

"Timing is everything. Maybe I could get away with it since interest hasn't died down yet, but it's only a matter of time before everyone's moved on. Who knows when that will be?"

"As long as radio's still playing your music and those music videos were, well, sorry for being a bit of fangirl, but they were really good, like masterpieces."

"Better be—it took weeks to put together. It was the culmination of people who were really good at what they do making something they all worked hard on. I can't take all the credit. In most cases, I can't; I'm usually a small piece of the machine that was already working quite well before I ever arrived."

Bra was glad she'd gotten him on this topic. He seemed a bit more invested. They hadn't spoken very many sentences to each other in a while. "So what's the real reason you cancelled?"

"I can't do them. I physically can't do them," Malachi finally said. "I can't just stand there and sing. Everyone else does that and I'm the one who doesn't. I'm the one who's supposed to entertain the audience even if it's just a few songs. I used to do that so easily, but…"

Bra realized the issue even before he finished. This was likely the real reason why he hadn't been his usual self—he couldn't do the thing that he was known for doing, that he probably enjoyed doing, and had come naturally to him since the very beginning.

"Right now even two left feet would be preferable to what I can manage. It's horrendous. I'm too embarrassed to let anyone see. I haven't told Quint because I'm afraid of how he might react. His precious investment now completely useless."

"You're not useless," Bra said forcefully, "I don't want you to think that for one second."

"Well, it's a little too late for that. There's a lot of things that I _can't_ do, things that I really liked doing that all involve some level of adequate coordination. Forget about exerting myself. The only thing I can do right is sitting down in some chair. I can do that with expert precision."

"You know that's not true. The kids still adore you far more than me. I suck at 'parenting' even to this day and you can probably do it in your sleep."

"Ah yes, I'll be sure to put that down on my résumé. Besides, I have no idea what I'm doing. I'm just waiting for someone to say that I'm doing something horribly wrong."

"Downplay it all you want, but it's not something that comes easy to people. At least, that's what Mom says. I know things don't look so good right now, but if you keep working at it, I know it'll get better."

"Who's to say if that's true or not? What if this is it?"

"It's not," Bra said confidently. "I don't believe that for a second."

"So strange how you can be so sure of yourself," Malachi said as he looked at her fully. His eyes had been largely on his phone since they started talking.

"Well, somebody has to be," she said with a grin.

"Yeah," Malachi said dismissively, "Even if it's misplaced."

"If things are really going to change for the better, then you have to think it's going to happen in the first place. I know it's easier said than done—"

"You were there when the doctor told me that it's likely there's permanent brain damage from all that happened and this is exactly how he described it to be. He didn't recommend physical therapy, only medicine that might improve matters and from where I stand, nothing has improved."

Bra frowned at this. "Malachi," she said slowly, "Aren't you glad just to be alive?"

His eyes seemed to soften at this. "Of course I am. But sometimes I wonder…"

"Yeah?" Bra asked when he didn't finish his thought.

"Nevermind," he said shaking his head, "Silly thought."

Bra briefly considered pressuring him to say what he'd been thinking and then decided it was better not to. Something told her that it was probably nothing she wanted to hear in the first place and apparently, he couldn't be bothered with uttering the words.

"I know this might sound a bit radical to you at this point, but the very fact that you're here, alive with me now after I had to suffer through visiting you day after day in the hospital, hearing from nurses and doctor's alike that you might not make it, it's really a miracle and it puts a lot of things in perspective. Even if we're not technically married I'm just glad I can share a house with you. Whatever the future holds, I'm just glad that you'll be a part of it and that's more than enough for me. I can't imagine anything else."

His eyes seemed to darken as she spoke much to her disappointment. She had hoped to have the opposite effect. He averted his gaze. "I wish I could look at things like that, but…I can't. I don't want to lie about it or make it seem like I'm one way, when I'm not. I'll just be frank with you, Bra," he said with a sigh, "I can't see the future anymore not even a vague idea, at least not for myself. And I don't particularly want to waste my time thinking about it."

She wondered how that could be so even while being surrounded by people that she was sure he considered his family. Aside from music, however, Bra couldn't picture him doing anything else. He had found the thing he excelled at long ago and made a career out of it. Even fighting which he seemed to have knack for was likely out of his grasp considering he probably had to stay on heart medication for the remainder of his life. It was a depressing thought, but Bra tried not to dwell on that. Despite all these things, Bra didn't feel as if all was lost. They'd figure something out somehow.

"That's alright," Bra said as she sat down beside him. She placed a hand on his immediately noticing how startling cold his hands were. He was often freezing yet never complained about it. "We'll just take it one day at a time."


	64. The Idle Idol

**It was a lazy summer afternoon.** Malachi lounged idly on one of the lawn chairs unintentionally watching Jensen and Astor play around outside. He was slowly making his way through a tall glass of cold water which he secretly wished was beer instead. The two youngest kids were taking their midday naps and the adults of the house were enjoying yet another uneventful day. Jensen and Astor who were out on the expansive backyard lawn closest to the main house were eventually graced with a rare appearance from Vegeta. Perhaps rare wasn't quite the word as he was doing so more and more often opting to spend his time outside rather than in the gravity room. Jensen and Astor had been throwing around a frisbee that she'd just gotten on her birthday courtesy of Malachi. Astor could often be seen around the house with Jensen propelling paper airplanes everywhere and Malachi decided that a frisbee would be a fitting gift for her.

It was a nice, well balanced frisbee that didn't have much of learning curve. After showing her how to use it, Malachi distanced himself from the whole thing and soon Jensen was dragged outside for all hours of the day playing frisbee with her. He didn't seem to mind. Malachi grinned to himself—they seemed to be having fun. He'd done similar things as a child, but with subpar equipment and not much space to do it in. Still it brought back nostalgic memories. As Vegeta had soon joined them, the poor kids were now tasked with trying to catch long distance tosses and they were chasing the now elusive frisbee all about the yard—trust Vegeta to make even the simplest of activities into daunting endeavors. They were essentially just passing it amongst themselves. At least it was something mildly interesting to watch otherwise he'd just be gazing at nothing in particular. The skies were clear that day so it wasn't as if the clouds could distract him.

Malachi wasn't sure how much time had passed before Vegeta finally tired them out, but he knew the sun had moved a bit across the sky. He still hadn't finished his exhaustingly full glass of water, less than midway through. Malachi expected Vegeta to leave for his gravity room, but he surprised even him when the man joined him on the back porch. They acknowledged each other silently with their eyes.

"Didn't want to join?" Vegeta asked.

Malachi looked down at his glass. "Didn't want to start what I couldn't finish."

Avoiding overexerting himself had been quite a challenge for him in the beginning. It involved completely changing his habits. After a while, he found it easier to simply not do anything that could potentially lead to an elevated heart rate. While in the midst of doing something he liked to do, it was difficult to hold back. More often than not, he found himself on the sideline of many things. It felt as if he was being subject to the longest movie in his life and there was no way to walk out of the theater—all he could do was watch.

It was no secret that he and Vegeta had a habit of yelling down each other's throats, but it never felt as if any of it was taken personally. He'd see Vegeta again and then it was as if nothing at all had happened. Malachi also took most things that Vegeta said to him in the heat of the moment with a grain of salt. He knew he had instigated it in the first place and Vegeta was not one who was well versed in filtering his words or backing down from an argument.

"So you're just going to sit here all day," Vegeta said drily.

"Yes," Malachi said as he finally decided to take another sip of water—emptying the glass would be an arduous endeavor. "I'm sure Bra would appreciate that."

Vegeta hmphed at that. Color would actively drain from Bra's face if she so much as saw Malachi breathing a little harder than usual. It wasn't a leap for anyone to know that Bra probably didn't want Malachi doing very much at all. "Humans are so weak," Vegeta said gruffly.

Malachi's left hand that was on the armrest of the lawn chair squeezed it a little harder as he heard this. His eyes closed as he bristled at the statement. Reluctantly, he calmed his racing thoughts. "Yeah, I know," he said quietly.

"What was that? I couldn't hear you," Vegeta said with some smugness.

Malachi knew the other had excellent hearing, but he didn't feel like getting into it with the other. "I said: Yeah, I know," he repeated in elevated tones despite himself.

"You're agreeing with me?" Vegeta scoffed.

"There's not much point in beating a dead horse," Malachi replied, unable to hide the annoyance from his voice. Malachi felt Vegeta's eyes on him until he finally met them wearily.

"It's like I'm looking at a different person altogether. You're not the same guy who claimed he could defeat me."

Malachi wore a subtle grin. "I'm not. I can never be; not anymore."

It was Vegeta who looked away first. "You've given up," he stated rather than asked.

"Certain circumstances have forced my hand. As you well know," Malachi replied with annoyance still coloring his tone. "Is that what you came here for? —to actually hear me say that because you're bored out of your mind? Am I making your day?"

"No," he said after a moment. Malachi could hear a hint of despondency in his tone. "I pictured this going a different way. You haven't even so much as raised your voice."

"I've turned a new leaf."

Vegeta looked at him questioningly clearly not understanding the expression.

"I've decided to do things differently now."

"Is that right? You've really decided to just do this. That sounds boring as hell."

"Puzzles are still pretty entertaining."

"I'm being serious," Vegeta said back.

"Me too. Serious as a heart attack."

It was a painful pun on multiple levels, but Vegeta seemed largely unaffected by it. "Like I said before, humans are weak."

"We've established that. I've agreed. I guess we're done here, right?"

"I don't want you to agree with me."

Malachi didn't respond to this and simply took another sip from his glass. They were silent for a while.

"Something's always bothered me," Vegeta said breaking the silence. "A few things."

Malachi had no idea what the other would say next, but he braced himself for impact.

"That move you did against Krillen when you fought him and almost guaranteed yourself a win. How did you manage to do that?"

Malachi thought back to that time. It took him a moment to recall. "First of all, it was nowhere near a guarantee, but I couldn't see any other way to do things. I'd practiced on inanimate objects before—controlling the innate energy that is in all organic things. It's much easier on things that don't have a will of its own. You can manipulate it to do almost anything, so I discovered. I'm sure if you tried, it would come easily to you. In the grand scheme of things, such a skill isn't necessary, but it was a stepping stone. When I was able to draw energy from small immovable things with good consistency, I tried bigger things. Instead of grass, flowers. After flowers, a bush and so on and so forth. Then after a week, I tried animals from small to large just like before. There was a degree of difficulty that I had to overcome, more concentration was required. That energy, that ki couldn't be removed without a bit of struggle. It was already turning into a slow process. It could be done, however, that much I was certain. Of course, with humans or any being with a strong will of it's own, it would be more difficult, but it wouldn't be impossible.

"People are only different in that way from animals. We have a higher degree of awareness and consciousness, we can actively fight against ki being taken away. But you see, it's the same kind of energy whether it be a blade of grass or the mayor of the city. It's all the same. That moment when I realized that—it was an epiphany. The moment you showed me how to form a ki blast, I realized that ki could be transformative. It could _do_ a wide variety of things, but the ki itself, the thing being used was the same. In the same way that you can manipulate your own ki, you can do the same to ki that is not naturally yours. Maybe you knew that already," Malachi said thoughtfully as he glanced over at Vegeta who'd been listening intently.

"I knew that, but I didn't draw those kinds of conclusions until I saw Kakarot pull off a move I've only seen done as a last resort—Spirit Bomb," Vegeta began. "He doesn't use his own energy, but that from the Earth itself or from however far away as he needs. The thing is, people have to be told to raise up their hands to allow him to take the ki in the first place, but I think that's just to make it easier for him. I've seen him do it before up close and I realized long ago that it wasn't just people, he was taking ki from the earth itself as well as animals. Like you said, animals aren't cognizant enough to resist that sort of thing. Despite having no idea what was happening, their energy was used as well. Everything you've said so far makes sense to me."

"I'm kind of relieved you said that because I really had no idea if I was right or wrong or just seeing something that just wasn't there. I could have been going about things completely in the wrong way," Malachi said.

"Well, it worked against Krillen—something must have gone right," Vegeta commented.

"That's what I told myself," Malachi agreed. "Going into it, I had no idea if things would even pan out at all. I hadn't tried drawing out the ki of another person before, but judging from how each trial I'd tried became more difficult the bigger something was and the level of intelligence, I knew it wouldn't be easy. I had to concentrate on his energy almost exclusively if anything was going to be done. That Krillen didn't know it was happening helped, but I was more surprised that he didn't actually _notice_ it happening. There was resistance nonetheless, but I think it would have been impossible had he been aware. It was painstaking—I really wouldn't recommend banking on that kind of thing. He was fighting me, throwing me off, and I was taking a lot of hits—and pain itself can be one of the most distracting things to ignore. But I really wanted to win. It's true, I hate losing with a passion, but that day I wanted to win because you were there watching me. I wanted you to see that you weren't wasting your time training me. I'd gotten it into my head that if I _didn't_ win, you'd want no more to do with me.

"It was a slow process—you saw how long that fight went on. Krillen was miles stronger than me. He had a lot of energy to draw out. Mentally, I was actively wrestling with pulling out his ki. Now that I think about it, it just felt incredibly inefficient working so hard just to get a tiny bit of energy off of someone each time. Doing just one person was a daunting task. I really don't see how this could even translate to multiple people at once if they're unwilling or unknowing subjects.

"When it became apparent to me that Krillen was in fact losing strength, I knew I was in the homestretch. In the end though, I had to bluff. I was on my last reserves of energy; there was no way I had enough strength left to actually launch it at my intended target. Already, it was pulling away from my control. It felt as if that energy _wanted_ to return to where it'd been stolen. Had he not surrendered when he did, I would have collapsed from the effort. I'm sure you remember how it all turned out. The harder it was to extract energy, the more it took out for me to even perform the move in the first place. I'd never had to work that hard before and I had no idea that I was pushing myself too far. There was a task, an end that I had envisioned, and I strove to see it through no matter what. Now it just seems incredibly shortsighted," Malachi finished.

"Hindsight can make most decisions seem that way. The amount of tenacity I saw that day, admittedly it was impressive for a human even if that particular human didn't have the sense to know when things had gone too far. I suppose that explains why you never revisited that technique. The strain was too much."

"I suppose like all things, practice would have made it easier, but I really had no desire to perfect it. I just wanted to become stronger so that I didn't have to depend on those kind of costly tricks," Malachi replied.

"In a way, you got your wish," Vegeta said thoughtfully.

"In the worst way possible," Malachi reminded the other. "And I was never fully in control of myself—that's the one thing I hated not having and that had gone on for too long of a time period." Malachi took yet another small sip from the cup. It hardly seemed like he was even making progress. "So what was the other thing you wanted to know?" Malachi asked. Any distraction from the fact that he was doing absolutely nothing for most of the day was a welcome one as far as Malachi was concerned. Had an hour already passed?

"This one was done as well against Krillen and then later against my son. After that, as far as I know, I never saw you use that technique again. Seems useful," Vegeta said.

"The one that paralyzes someone for a short while? A cheap parlor trick. After the second time, I realized that I didn't want to win like that. Not that I'm above ever using it again against someone I really didn't like, but in a fight that I care about—it seems trite."

"What does it matter if it is something you have to use your own skills to even use properly?" Vegeta questioned. "The degree of usefulness of a technique, doesn't make it more or less honorable to use. A smart opponent would be able to eventually find a way around it. There's always some way to counter any move. There is no such thing as a perfect technique. Your hope is that your opponent never finds out how to counter it and you do that by only using it sparingly. If you have a trump card, but never play it—I'd say that it is a silly decision and seeing as _you_ need all the advantages you can get, it makes even less sense to stop using it. You're handicapping yourself for no reason at all. Personally, I've never seen anything like that technique before."

"When you say it like that," Malachi began with a chuckle, "It makes my reasons seem a bit half-baked. Guess I'm always worried about what others will think of me. Sometimes it seems as if everything is a sort of performance to be judged by the audience. But to answer your question about how it's done, let me start by saying that its more of the same kind of foundation—ki manipulation. There's just so much you can do when you have adequate control of that. I tried on plants and rocks first—I tried a lot of things on that. I wanted to see if I could quickly change the natural flow of ki just a little. At the time, I didn't know the application, I just wanted to know if that flow could be disrupted. There's different ways I could do that. One way involved pushing the ki completely out of its natural path, another jumbling up the energy and slowing it down either significantly or just a little. Any other variation I tried amounted to either slowing down the flow or completely stopping it. I didn't have the heart to try it on animals next. I just had a feeling that it would probably hurt like stopping blood flow, but I didn't think it would be life-threatening.

"So I tried it on myself. I'll spare you the painful details. The one which yielded the most lasting and painful results was pushing the ki out of its natural path. Sure, you can probably do that to yourself through meditation, but externally and jarringly in only one isolated spot is enough to bring even the toughest fighter to their knees as least in my opinion. It hurts like hell and it's internal and inescapable. If you jumble or send several particles of ki in a different direction _that_ will disrupt the flow and it takes minimal effort on my part. When Saiyans are in their accelerated form, that flow becomes even more prominent and vulnerable at least for my purposes. Once things are out of whack, it becomes near impossible to correct. The disruption becomes widespread quite rapidly. Only when that flow is calmer can the body better accommodate that sort of thing—that's just from seeing what happened to Trunks. It's sort of speculation, but it seems to fit. I hadn't predicted that it would be like that for Trunks until it happened. That was the only way I could have won against a fully realized Super Saiyan as far as I know. Otherwise, he would have demolished me quickly. Even one good hit from him, nearly killed me. I knew that would be the case, so all I could count on was evading him altogether."

"I see now," Vegeta said after a moment. "It does seem to make sense, but I've never regarded ki in such a way. Having so much of it at any given time, you start to overlook those kinds of properties. When I was younger still living on my home planet, I took classes such as these explaining in exhausting details the very nature of ki, but I hardly paid attention to that. I wished I had. All I knew was that my father wouldn't be impressed with how well I understood those concepts only how it could be translated into actual fighting. In my society, fighting technique was valued over all else so that is what I focused on. And now that knowledge is lost. I never gave it second thought.

"Your technique disrupts the ki flow and induces a short bout of pain—enough to distract the opponent and give you the advantage. Do you always have to make physical contact with the person?" Vegeta asked.

"There's likely a way around that, but from what I can do, I require contact. It's low energy so in theory you could keep doing this over and over again—a bit like torture. I'm sure it could eventually drive the person crazy," Malachi replied.

"That's if the person doesn't just knock you out in anger and desperation. I think it would work best with the element of surprise, but once someone figures out what you're doing especially since you have to be so close to pull it off, I doubt anyone is going to go easy on you. Staying in close proximity or within reach wouldn't be a good idea."

"That's true," Malachi agreed.

"And do you know where on the body it would be the most effective?"

"Unfortunately or fortunately, I wasn't masochistic enough to do it on myself over and over again, but you're always free to try," he said with a grin.

"Only if I'm bored enough."

"Well, that's not an outright no," Malachi said with a laugh. "Sounds distressingly unpleasant. Was there anything else you wanted to know? As far as I remember, that was it."

"There was one more thing," Vegeta began glancing over at the other.

Malachi looked at the other with a raised eyebrow.

"Have you gotten anywhere with IT?"

"Instant Transmission? No, hasn't even crossed my mind. Now that you brought it up, though, I think I'll give it further consideration. You seem interested enough so maybe just for you I'll try to figure something out."

"It was just something that Kakarot could do that never made sense to me. I'm only vaguely interested. I wouldn't burn myself out over it though."

"Vague interest roughly translated to an intense need to know," Malachi said with a teasing grin.

"Take it how you will," Vegeta said as he stood up.

"Going somewhere?" Malachi asked the other.

"Unlike you, I can't just sit around all day."

"So the gravity room. Well, don't wear yourself out."

"That's exactly what I plan to do. It's just a shame that you won't be joining me."

"If you really want to spar with someone, I'm sure Pan wouldn't mind or even Trunks if you asked nicely."

"Both who are usually too busy to spend time with the likes of me," Vegeta said back as he climbed down the steps.

There was nothing Malachi could do for that so he watched silently as Vegeta went on his way leaving him to his own devices. Malachi looked down at his glass once again with a sigh. Determined, he lifted the glass to his mouth and chugged down the rest of the contents before throwing out the wretched glass and destroying it completely with a well-placed ki blast. He hoped Bunny wouldn't miss it, but he doubted it seriously. This situation that he found himself in was unsustainable. He would likely lose his mind completely with so much idleness, but as of now he didn't really have a good answer for it.

He climbed out of his chair only to find himself in another after he entered the house to find his laptop. After settling down in an empty room that was likely meant to serve as a small office, he opened a document file he'd started years ago when he first learned about the existence of ki and wanted to put his thoughts somewhere he could refer back to. Feeling somewhat inspired, he read it over again starting from the beginning. Then he started typing again anything that came to his mind. It was slow going as he found his fingers not nearly as responsive as they used to be. He was constantly pressing the wrong key and having to backspace—it was becoming more and more difficult to type anything coherent at all. He was tenacious enough to continue despite the obstacles, but eventually he was finding it harder and harder to convince himself that it was worth the effort.

By the time he heard Jensen stepping into the room, he'd lowered his head onto his arms in utter frustration. Astor must have gone home for the day otherwise he would have been with her. Sometimes she stayed overnight, sometimes she didn't. Astor was hardly one for being consistent and Malachi had a feeling that she liked keeping Jensen guessing.

"Daddy, are you okay?"

It was a question that Jensen seemed to ask more and more. More often than not, he _wasn't_ okay, but Malachi didn't want the child worrying so much about him. That was easier said than done and the boy was quite perceptive.

"I'm alright. Just typing something."

Jensen had stepped into the room further and was probably reading over what was on the screen presently. "Are you writing a book?"

"Not exactly. It's just something for myself. Don't know why I bother with it."

"It sounds interesting," Jensen said. "What's it about?"

"Super boring stuff about ki, about different techniques that I happened to think about."

"Do you need some help writing it?"

"And what exactly could you do?"

"I—well—I bet you're having some trouble typing it, right?"

"How do you know that?" Malachi asked wearily. He didn't want to alarm the child with such news.

Jensen didn't respond immediately. During the span of silence, Malachi lifted his head a little to look at the child with a raised eyebrow. Jensen looked away from his eyes.

"Sometimes," he began slowly, "I can read your mind."

"You can?" Malachi asked mystified.

"Remember back at the hospital when you first woke up? You couldn't speak and then suddenly we were just communicating with each other like it was totally normal?"

Malachi took a moment and thought about his time in the hospital which had mostly been a blur. He knew Jensen had been there. He seemed to have always been there. He remembered others as well. He remembered Quint. There had been a breathing tube obstructing his ability to speak and, yes, he had been speaking with Jensen—or had he? It was confusing to think about. He wondered if he was even recalling correctly.

"I think so," Malachi finally replied.

"At the time, I thought you were somehow putting your thoughts into my mind—allowing me to hear you. That was the only thing I could think of."

"Jensen, I may be able to do a few tricks here or there, but I've never been able to put my thoughts into anyone's head. That's just not something humans can do or me for that matter."

"I realize that now. The condition you were in—you barely even knew where you were let alone deliberately speaking to me mentally. I think I must have been just reading your mind."

"And I just went right along with it. Didn't even begin to think how weird that was."

"I think you were just glad to be heard in some way."

"So all this time, you've been doing that unknowingly?"

"Sometimes, on and off. Sometimes it sounds like you're speaking directly to me, but you're not. I heard you say that you were frustrated that you couldn't put your thoughts into writing and that typing was difficult. I thought I could help."

Malachi sighed at this. "If you really want to, then I suppose you can." He stood up and let Jensen take his seat at the desk.

"How fast can you type?" Malachi asked.

"Really, really fast," Jensen said confidently.

"There a number tacked onto that?"

"Huh?"

"How many words per minute?"

"Oh, well, I never thought about that. I guess I could time myself," Jensen began.

"It's not necessary. I'll be able to tell soon enough."'

Malachi paced a little as Jensen's hands stayed poised to type out anything that he said.

"Alright, start typing this—start on a new page: Instant Transmission is a technique that has long sense confounded me from the day Vegeta first told me about it. Apparently, a warrior who once lived on Earth and defended it with his life, was able to execute this move with remarkable ease."

Malachi watched as Jensen was able to type up the words even as he said them. Jensen wasn't just an average typist; he had considerable speed; far more than even his own when he was even capable of doing it. From there, Malachi continued in an even, moderate rate. Speaking his thoughts aloud felt therapeutic and watching them appear on the screen almost magically, put his mind at ease. Eventually, he stopped watching the other altogether as he continued, stopping every now and then to make sure Jensen was fine or if he needed to take a break. Each time, Jensen would insist that he was ready for more and that it was his pleasure to help him in the first place. His sincerity was always something that impressed Malachi no matter how often he was witness to it.

This went on for quite some time though Malachi wasn't exactly paying attention to the time. It wasn't until the sun had completely set that he found himself completely exhausted of all he had wanted to write down.

Jensen seemed to protest to this. "But…you haven't really said how to do it—I mean, not really," he said.

"That's because I don't know. Not yet anyway. Maybe I'll never know. It's just me aimlessly wondering."

"Is it some kind of diary then?" he asked.

"I wouldn't call it that," Malachi replied. "Mind if I take that seat back?"

"Oh, of course," Jensen said as he stood up promptly.

Jensen was nothing if not extraordinarily accommodating, Malachi thought to himself. He was waiting for the moment in which he'd tell him: "I have better things to do than hanging out with you all the time." Maybe he was still too young for that.

"I'll just give it to Vegeta one day when I've finally reached some sort of conclusion. I feel like he might appreciate it. I'm sure he'd never admit it out loud, but this is something that's bothered him for a long time."

It was then that his phone's ringtone began playing. Malachi slid his phone out of his pocket and glanced over the caller ID: Marron. That was all the incentive he needed to answer it.

"Hey, Marron," Malachi said. Who else could it have been but her calling with her phone?

"Hey," she said back with some enthusiasm in her tone. "This isn't a bad time, is it?"

"It's hardly ever a bad time. My schedule is pretty vacant these days."

"Really? I'd think you'd be so busy right about now. I keep hearing your music everywhere."

"Yeah," Malachi said distantly, thinking of all the things he would normally be doing. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to appear publicly somewhere—not in a performance setting, but perhaps on a few talk shows. Better to take advantage of the media climate now while he still could and he was still relevant. He knew firsthand how quickly the public moved on.

"It's because of what happened, isn't it?" Marron said knowingly. "You're still recovering."

"You could say that."

"Well, I just wanted to say thank you for trusting me and for actually giving a shit about me. Before, when you asked me to be on your album, I kind of thought it was just a joke. Rich people can say things and not really mean it, but you were being serious. I mean, I'm really on this album and that song that I wrote for you—you actually used it and you gave _me_ credit."

"Marron, that's what I'm supposed to do. If somebody helped me in any way to make that album, their name is up there. It wouldn't make sense any other way."

"Well, I just got a huge check today—well, another one—courtesy of M-town Records. There were a lot zeros," Marron said back. He could hear the smile in her voice.

"And how does it feel?" Malachi asked.

"Like I've been given the chance of a lifetime."

"You know, it doesn't have to end here. That song you wrote me—I really liked it. You have a knack for it. As you can see, people would pay a lot of money for well-written songs. Everybody thinks they can do it, but many fail miserably at it. So there's always a need for songwriters. You tell people 'hey, that was me who wrote that song for Malachi that _wasn't_ about sex, money, or girls and it still topped the charts'. Inspirational songs—that could be your thing."

"You really think so?"

"I know so. I could introduce you to the right people and get your name out there."

"What if I just want to write songs for you?"

"Well, I would be honored."

"But not a whole album. Maybe just a couple songs."

"I'm not in any rush. Seriously, I doubt I'll be doing anything else for a few years."

"That's right, you do like to wait a while between albums. I think that's smart. People know that too. So it's even more like an event whenever you finally put something else out."

"Or maybe I'm just super lazy," he said sitting back in his chair, "One of those."

Marron chuckled. "Probably a mix of both. Well, I don't want to keep you from your busy evening."

"You have a good evening as well," Malachi replied.

From there the call was ended. Jensen had made himself comfortable on the floor nearby fiddling with his phone.

"Still here?" Malachi asked the child.

Jensen looked up at him. "Well, yeah, but you can kick me out if you want some privacy."

"I'll just be looking over this for a while. Could get pretty boring in here."

"That's fine," Jensen said back.

"Suit yourself."

The two of them sat in silence for some time. Every once in a while, Malachi glanced over at Jensen who seemed to be minding his business. He shook his head at this. Was it really all that amazing just to be in the same room with him even if he was making no attempts at engaging the boy? Jensen seemed completely at ease despite this. The only thing that could be heard was the sound of a few intermittent keystrokes as he added or omitted things from what was already typed out.

They were interrupted with a tap at the doorway. Malachi looked behind him to behold Bunny standing there.

"Supper's ready, honey," she said kindly to him with a smile.

Malachi managed only a brief smile though her presence was unexpected. For as long as he lived there, no one actually went around saying that dinner was ready—everyone seemed to migrate towards the dining room as the smell of food drifted about the house and certainly Bunny had never bothered doing it. "Am I missing something? What's with the personal invitation?"

"I just wanted to make sure you were alright," she replied in her usual pleasant tones.

Malachi looked at her quizzically. "Yeah, I'm fine." He turned back to the laptop. "I'll be down in a few."

Bunny, however, did not leave promptly. It became clear to him that telling him that dinner was ready wasn't her main intention. He did not rush her as he waited for her to say something further.

"I would not have minded at all if you helped me prepare the food."

"You don't need my help," Malachi stated matter-of-factly.

"It would have been nice anyway. I know things didn't work out so well before, but it would just take some readjusting."

"Right," Malachi said with little enthusiasm. He hadn't bothered to turn back to her.

"I would also like to apologize for my granddaughter's actions," she said.

With this, he turned fully to her. "You don't have to—

She put up a silencing finger before he could finish and he obediently obliged her. "A great deal was taken from you. It's impossible now for you to be the same person you were before. You can't enjoy the same things and perhaps years have been taken from your life. It's perfectly normal for you to feel angry and frustrated about that. No one should be making you feel as if you're somehow doing something wrong because you feel those things, no one in the house can even begin to relate to what you're probably going through. Please don't forgive my granddaughter so easily."

"But—

She shushed him and he quieted once again. "She's lived her entire life doing exactly as she pleases without having to deal with any of the consequences—her father saw to that. She doesn't listen to anyone, but perhaps she'll listen to you. I, as well, would like to apologize."

"Bunny," he began, but he was once again silenced by her. He leaned his head up against his hand on his upright arm and he wore a subtle grin. It almost felt as if he was being chastised.

"I didn't help things on that day," she began. "I may have overstimulated you."

Malachi looked at her questioningly. "What are you talking about?"

She smiled and then winked at him. "Dinner's getting cold, handsome," she said turning. "Please join if you feel up to it."

That day was still a mystery to him. Other than what Bra had told him and that both Bulma and Bunny had said that he was acting a bit promiscuous, he had no real recollections of those events. He wasn't all that interested in knowing, but even now as he tried to think back to it, he was drawing a complete blank. Perhaps it was better that way.

"How 'bout it, Jensen?—ready for some food?"

Of course the kid was as he nodded vigorously. Malachi knew that the other wouldn't go unless he did, at least it became that way if he spent any significant time with him and didn't want to leave his side. He felt as if he _had_ to partake in dinner since otherwise Jensen was liable to pass up on it as well. Malachi doubted that it was intentional, but it was motivating all the same.

Just as he was making his way downstairs through the living room, he heard a knock on the door. He knew he was closest to it, so he decided to answer it. He looked over at Jensen. "Go join everyone in the dining room, I'll be there in a few."

"Alright," Jensen said reluctantly.

Malachi could tell the other didn't want to leave, but he was quite firm with him as he gave him a warning look to go do as he said and not argue. He answered the door soon after, but he was totally caught by surprise as he beheld the person behind it. It was Majuub. Within the second that he saw him, Malachi noticed that he appeared to have gained musculature all over. Though Malachi was taller than the man, he felt quite small in his presence.

"Hey," Malachi said managing a smile, "Coming to crash the party?"

He wasn't altogether certain how he should be acting towards the man, but he certainly didn't want to piss him off at the moment. He'd still been heavily under Laputa's influence when they had last spoke and they had left on semi good terms. He still had the sense that the other didn't like him and he'd done nothing to help that fact. He had decided it was best to keep his distance.

"I might have called you, but I don't have your number nor do I have any interest in learning it," Majuub said at once.

"You look well," Malachi replied still trying to be pleasant. He still wasn't sure what the other wanted.

"I've been training just like you suggested all that time ago so that I might one day defeat you in battle."

Malachi sighed at this. "I think it's admirable that you've continued training and—

"I would like to show you my progress," Majuub interrupted the other. "I think you would be impressed."

"I'm sure I would be. It's just—

"It's the least you can do," Majuub cut across him again, "Unless all that talk before was for show."

"It's been awhile since that time, hasn't it," Malachi said distantly.

"It has," Majuub agreed with him. "A lot has happened to me."

"I'd love to hear about it. Why don't you just come in? Let's talk."

"I didn't come here to talk and definitely not about that," Majuub said stubbornly.

Malachi grinned at this. "You drop by unannounced late in the evening and expect things to be going your way just like that," he said with a snap of his finger. "I was just about to sit down for dinner—you can join if you like."

"No," Majuub said shaking his head. "I'm not sure if I could stand that sort of thing with you."

"I understand," Malachi replied. "And there's nothing I can say to—

"Then don't—Please. I'd rather you avoided that topic altogether."

"Alright," Malachi said backing off. "I think I know why you came by, but I'm sorry, I'm in no condition for that. It's too late for it."

His eyebrows furrowed at this. Malachi watched as Majuub's hands clutched into tight fists. "You're brushing me off," he stated with marked annoyance.

"I'm not. I'm just saying that I can't help you. Not anymore."

"You don't understand," Majuub said with a determined look. "Ever since that day, I've been training. That's all I've been doing. That's been my single focus. I didn't allow for distractions. I didn't allow myself to think of anything else. It was the only thing that kept me going knowing that one day I would face you again, we would fight each other with everything we had and I'd finally defeat you. What you're saying to me right now; that's not an option."

"I do understand," Malachi said back. In fact, it all made sense to him, but he knew he couldn't give what the other wanted from him. He was a mere shadow of the man he used to be and that wasn't so apparent to him as it was now standing in front of someone who reminded him of what could have been. "I've been in your shoes before, having a goal and singularly pursuing it against all odds no matter what anyone else had to say about it. I had someone that I wanted to defeat and I always dreamed of that day, I always felt as if it was just a matter of time. Just as we've fought before, I've fought _him_ before and always lost."

"Eventually you defeated him, didn't you," Majuub said with hope in his tone.

Malachi chuckled at this. "That fight that I envisioned—a battle in which we fought to our full potentials without holding back—it never happened. Maybe it was never meant to happen. All I know is that it can't. To be honest, I'm not even sure if I can really cope with that fact."

Majuub gazed at him wordlessly with a frown. "You seem different from before," he said after a moment. "Perhaps my appearance was too sudden."

"Majuub, I'm sorry, but I would make for a pitiful opponent and it would be a complete waste of your time. I wish things were different, but they're just not."

"I see," Majuub said stepping back from the doorway surprisingly calm. "I'll come back later when you've come back to your senses."

Malachi started to protest, but the other took off abruptly. He watched his fading form for a while before finally closing the door. He shook his head slowly. There was no way he could even begin to think about facing Majuub in the way that he wanted. He remembered the conversation he'd had with the man. It felt like it had occurred a lifetime ago. He had been powerful then. He had felt invincible with raw energy rushing through his veins. That wasn't him any longer. It would simply be suicide if he engaged Majuub in a fight.

He had scarcely walked more than two steps when he felt a tightness in his chest which gradually increased to a dull throbbing pain. He realized suddenly that his breath had shortened considerably—he couldn't speak, he couldn't cry out and he felt utterly helpless. He was closer to the living room than he was to the dining room so he made his way there. He concentrated on moving one leg in front of the other in a singular intent to reach a couch. His breathing was quite ragged by then and it was difficult to keep his balance. He fell onto the couch as the world around him became shakier and shakier and he simply laid there desperately gasping for breath. It seemed to go on forever and he began to wonder if this was it. Would this be his last moments? His eyes became watery with the effort. Everywhere he looked, the world was spinning faster and faster. One of his hands reached for his chest as the pressure became more pronounced. There was no use. There was nothing he could do. The pain didn't just remain there at his chest, but it radiated outward all down his left side.

Then it was over just like that and he was greedily taking in the air around him in utter relief. He was taking big, heaving breaths and he found that he was quite exhausted. Carefully, he sat back up as his breathing calmed again though he was still lightheaded and reeling from the ordeal. He looked towards the direction of the dining room with the intention of finally joining them, but the thought of getting up and walking there seemed impossible. Exhaustion was getting the better of him. Eventually, he laid back on the couch and began drifting off. Half-sleep, half awake, he made himself a little more comfortable as he laid down and spread out. He looked up towards the ceiling that seemed far, far away. He wondered if he would wake up again. He wondered if it would be better just to end things now.

Had he not done all he'd set out to do to the best of his ability? If there was anything else, he had no real strength left to do it. He couldn't do anything else of particular significance. His phone began vibrating in his pocket and the ringtone began to play. It was another song that he adored soft and melodic. He briefly thought about turning it off, but decided it was too much work. _They wouldn't miss me that much if this was it…_ That thought began to plague him the more his mortality became apparent. He was only a small piece of the puzzle. They would have each other to support themselves and they were well off financially, even more so than he was on his own. Depression was setting in again as he tried to come to terms with the fact that everything that he loved to do were the things that he couldn't do anymore. Aside from now, his restlessness had returned and it made him even more irritable and he could only imagine that things would become worse from there. How could Bra or anyone even tolerate someone such as him, always so weak and needy? Was this really what relationships entailed? How could he keep her happy if he could hardly do so for himself? As far as supportive boyfriends went, he didn't think he was doing very well. In fact, he felt as if he was failing miserably just as he always had with everything else in his life.

He eventually did fall asleep in a very short time and his world became dark. Sometime after, he couldn't be sure how long, he heard Jensen's voice calling for him. Instinctively, he tried to respond, but his mouth wasn't working as well as he thought. Everything felt so far away and he was struggling to wake himself up.

"…Jensen…?" he managed to say. For sanity's sake, he wanted to make sure he wasn't mistaken.

Then he heard what he recognized as Bra's voice nearby. "Jensen, no, let him rest."

"I wasn't talking to you," Jensen retorted. "Isn't it past your bedtime?—Don't you have work tomorrow?" Malachi had never heard him say something so belittling before.

"Who the hell do you think you are, talking to me like that? You wouldn't dare talk to your dad like that so why—

"I can talk to you any way I want—

They were starting to interrupt each other more and more as their voices grew louder and the argument escalated. "Please," he croaked, "…Please don't fight." He wasn't even following what was being said, he just knew that he didn't like it. He hadn't known that their relationship had deteriorated so spectacularly that Jensen had no respect for Bra, the love of his life.

The noise they were making ceased after he said that. Though he'd seen fleeting images of them, the world around him was darkening as he gradually lost his battle with wakefulness. He couldn't keep his eyes open no matter how hard he tried. He was still too tired and his body wouldn't respond to him.

The next time he woke up, the scent of food greeted his nose. It was a strong scent and obviously nearby.

"Thought you might like some food," Bunny's voice said from above him.

It was much easier waking this time. He wasn't fighting against himself and he was able to sit up without much trouble. "Did I miss a whole day?" Malachi asked.

"No, just a few hours. Everyone's asleep. I heard your tummy growling so I heated up the leftovers I managed to scrounge away."

"I imagine that wasn't easy," Malachi said. Everyone knew Vegeta was capable of consuming untold amounts of food in one sitting.

"I have my little secret area for hiding food just for me and now, you as well."

She'd already brought in a small, foldable wooden table and she was placing a hot plate of food upon it. He wondered how she'd known that now was the time for all that, but he was grateful nonetheless. "What is it—like midnight? You're up pretty late," Malachi noted as she set everything up.

"You're not the only one who stays up late," Bunny said. "Sometimes I get a little restless too."

"Well, thank you, for hiding some food for me. I probably would have just sufficed with a sandwich or some noodles."

"Noodles?" Bunny asked with a grin.

"Yeah. Angel hair, soba—they're quick and you can season them however way you want."

She considered his words and then nodded in understanding. "I see your point."

Bunny sat down next to him on the couch. Malachi was already cutting into the food as he was, in fact, quite hungry. He was salivating over it and he enjoyed her cooking over anyone else's. Sharing a kitchen with her had been enlightening. Any compliment he received from her meant more than any other when it came to cooking.

"Wonderful as always," Malachi said referring to the food.

"Nothing you're not perfectly capable of doing yourself," Bunny replied with a smile in her tone.

Malachi snorted at this. "If you say so."

Bunny was quiet for a while. Her eyes were elsewhere gazing at the couch across the room and then at a table full of family pictures. "I'm glad you haven't lost your appetite. Bulma used one of her scanners she likes to keep around and…we all know what happened."

Malachi paused before he placed another morsel of food into his mouth. Then he set his fork down. "I hope that didn't scare anyone. I'm fine now."

"If anyone should be shaken up, it's you, honey. I can't even begin to imagine how that must have felt like."

He sighed. "It wasn't pleasant." Then he continued on his plate.

"I heard you talking in your sleep," she said after a moment.

"So I've been told many, many times before. I'm sure it wasn't anything sensible."

"You spoke very plainly—you said that you wanted to die and I thought you were talking to me, but you were still asleep."

Malachi, caught off guard by this, almost choked on the food he was swallowing. He managed to get it down painlessly enough. He turned to Bunny fully. He hadn't expected such a thing would ever happen, but it had been heavily on his mind and apparently at the tip of his tongue. "I'm sorry—I really didn't mean to say that. I was just—it was just a silly thought."

Bunny continued to look at him silently. She still wore a pleasant expression as if completely unperturbed as well as unbelieving of his words.

"At the time, I thought that was it and I wanted to make peace with things. It was just in the heat of the moment."

Her expression hadn't changed, but it seemed as if her gaze had become much sharper, but it was hard to be sure.

"Alright," Malachi said with a sigh, "Maybe it's not the first time it's crossed my mind. It feels as if I can't do anything without the risk of making things worse for myself. I struggle with everything I do. Even today, when I wasn't doing anything at all—that attack just came out of nowhere and I was struggling just to breathe, to do the thing that comes naturally to _everyone_ and I was completely helpless. Is that really what I have to look forward to now, constant near-death experiences until one day my heart just gives out completely? I'm not sure what I'm supposed to be doing. Am I supposed to somehow be happy about all this? I'm supposed to be glad that I'm even alive? There just isn't anything left for me."

Bunny finally spoke again. "That's just the way things are now, but it doesn't mean everything's out of your grasp. Any one of us could die the next day or the next and that's always been the case," she said with a soft smile, "Being human, we all take that risk every day, but we don't let that stop us. I know things look bleak now, but there's always a chance that it could get better. And cooking certainly isn't out of your grasp. You just have to be open to change."

"Right," Malachi said turning back to his food to finish up the last of it. "I appreciate the vote of confidence."

"I have a confession to make," she said after another moment. "You never said those things in your sleep."

"Clever," he replied without sparing her a glance. "How did you know?"

"I've been watching you. I know that look in your eyes. I've seen it somewhere else before and it didn't turn out well. Back then, I just let things happen, but this time I wanted to step in. Maybe I could make a difference."

He'd finished his food and was looking at her again. "Things aren't as desperate as you're making it sound. It was just a thought. I would never act on it."

"I really do hope that's the case. I wish you wouldn't think that at all."

"Me too. It's embarrassing and incredibly selfish. I don't exactly like saying it out loud."

"So you keep it to yourself and you never talk about it. That sounds dangerous."

"Please don't tell Bra about this. I guess I can't stop you, but—

"This is just between me and you. I won't tell anyone."

"Thank you," he said with relief. "Bra would probably lose her mind and lock me up in a room somewhere. I can't imagine what everyone else would do."

"This family can be a bit extreme," she admitted.

"I like it anyway. Better than what I had before."

Bunny giggled at this. "I don't think I'd ever hear a thing like that."

His expression had grown serious again. "You said you'd seen something like this before—that look in someone's eyes." The thought raised hairs on the back of his neck knowing that he had something in common with someone who wound up committing suicide. It was concerning that his mind could travel to such dark places. He knew from experience that he had little control over it. When those moods would overtake him, it was difficult to pull himself out again unless it happened on its own. Perhaps it was a good night's rest or the prospects of tomorrow—he couldn't really pinpoint why he would get over things like that, but it certainly wasn't happening now. "What happened?"

"Oh, it was a long time ago when I was still in grade school. There was a boy that I knew in one of my classes and he always seemed sad. He'd always been a quiet person, but at some point, I knew it was more than just that. I remember I tried to talk to him, but I don't think I tried very hard. He had this dark look in his eyes. For about a week, I saw this and it scared me. Then he stopped coming to school. After a few days, the school made his passing known to us and there was a big to do about it. Candlelight vigils, news coverage. I knew it was him even before they made his name known. I knew what had happened. That's something I'll never forget."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Malachi said looking down.

"Maybe there's a silver lining," she said as she stood up. "Let me take your plate."

"You don't have to do—"

"I insist," she interrupted. "Please, sit, rest."

There was no stopping her as she went about cleaning the area. It all seemed very routine and automatic for her. Malachi watched her leave and then sat back against the couch in idleness. He wasn't exactly tired anymore, but it was nearing midnight. He wondered if he would stay up for the rest of the night. His sleep schedule was a bit out of whack by now.

He was surprised when Bunny joined him again. For some reason, he assumed that she'd gone off on her own possibly back to bed. Outside of the kitchen, they hardly spent any time together. She was often with her husband tending to him. It seemed she was restless too and she admitted to sometimes coming down to the living room late at night and watching things on TV until she eventually fell asleep. She turned on the flat screen after asking if he minded—he didn't of course—and she turned it to one of the action movie channels.

She'd struck him as more of a drama, soap opera kind of woman, but he was thoroughly mistaken. Either that or she was putting on a show for him. As the night bore on, though they'd been politely sitting apart before, eventually Malachi found himself lying across her lap—a guilty pleasure of his especially late in the night. She didn't seem to mind at all, in fact, she had instigated the whole thing and he had simply obliged. This probably shouldn't have come as any surprise from the woman who used the word "handsome" to refer to him. That had always been a little awkward in the beginning, but he'd quickly grown used to it. Though he never acknowledged her in such a way, he did notice that she looked quite well for her age. Not only was she pleasant but pleasing to look at. She was a complete mystery to him and Malachi couldn't tell whether it was intentional or not. He also couldn't determine if what they were doing was normal or not having no basis to work from. All he knew was that he was comfortable and totally at ease.

Expert fingers ran through his hair. If he were a cat, he might have started to purr. Whatever she was doing, he just wanted her to continue for a long time. He was barely paying attention to the movie, just basking in pleasure.

"Your hair is so soft," she said with a note of admiration, "What exactly are you doing to it?"

Malachi didn't think he was doing anything special, but it was clear he wasn't the only one liking their little arrangement. "I wash it," he said simply. Aside from the hundreds of products he used to keep it straight, that was basically it.

"Everybody washes their hair. I do that, but it certainly doesn't come out like this."

"Expensive products," he said back.

"Products are expensive simply because of their name brand for the most part. The ingredients are almost all the same."

"Then I have no idea."

"Hm," she said thoughtfully as her fingers continued to peruse his hair, "It's curly at the roots."

"Yeah? I've been neglecting things a bit."

"Oh, I see," she said as realization seemed to come over her. "Your hair—it's naturally curly. I had no idea," she said as if she'd just discovered a new element on the periodic table. "That's why it's so soft. How curly can it get?"

"Extremely tight coils after a while and when I really don't do anything extra to it besides putting a comb through it and some moisturizer, kinky as well."

"Really? I can hardly picture you like that."

Malachi chuckled at this, "You're not the first one who's said that."

"Seems like a lot of work just to keep it straight. Why not just let it be? I love curls."

"Because the world doesn't want to see that—that's what Quint told me long ago."

"Quint?" she asked perplexed.

"He's the guy who adopted me."

"Your father?"

Malachi snorted at this. "Something like that."

"And he told you to always straighten your hair? That sounds odd. I wasn't aware that people didn't like curly hair."

"I don't know if that's really the case or not, but that's always what I've been told. A lot of things changed when he took me in. He was very concerned about what I looked like. I was excited about all the shopping, but there were other things as well. I remember that day he took me to the salon to fix my hair. I was there for hours just trying to get the kinks out and washing and rewashing. Then lots of chemicals and sitting under a dryer. When I thought it was done, Quint wasn't satisfied and had them do it all over again."

"That sounds awful," Bunny said at once.

"It wasn't so bad. It wasn't painful at least. Just really time consuming. There were things that I was taught to do to keep it that way. Then he took me to a dermatologist who recommended certain creams for me to wear to keep my skin 'healthy'."

"But you were just a child, right? That sounds like a bit much."

"I'd be in the public eye," Malachi said, "And people pick up on the smallest of imperfections. He told me to stay inside in the meantime. That wasn't so easy to get used to. Prior to that, I was just a street kid who was outside all the time getting into maybe too much trouble for my own good. I liked playing outside even if it was with myself. Quint said I was too weathered by the sun that it didn't look good that I was so darkened by it. So the cream and staying inside a lot was meant to counteract that."

"That's just despicable," Bunny commented.

"It wasn't too hard to grow accustomed to," Malachi explained, "Compared to what I was doing before, it was a cakewalk. Quint was more than just my producer when I was younger. He was my manager really, just everything. When the honeymoon period was over, I was practicing and practicing—singing and dancing lessons. Singing lessons wasn't too bad, but the dancing—that was something else. Many times, he would lose his patience when I didn't do things exactly right and certain choice objects would come out: sometimes a leather belt, a ruler, a rough branch from a tree, a shoe perhaps, or even an ironer. I would run all about that big house—I didn't go outside because that would be bad—and sometimes he'd tire and give up, but when he caught me, it wasn't very pleasant." Malachi noticed that her hands had paused, but he was rambling by now and he couldn't stop. "So I tried to do everything right. I tried to please him every way I could, but he was a hard man to crack. Maybe it was the pressure. I don't know, but he was always so anxious and eventually just quick to anger. But he couldn't do anything to me when I was out there on that stage. It was all me. I was completely in control. That's the part that I liked the most, seeing everyone so focused on me, so interested in what I was doing. I loved the attention. All that hard work come to fruition. Suddenly, all that stuff I was doing in order to have that moment made sense to me. I did it because Quint wanted me to do it and doing it well made him happy, but I enjoyed it as well. _I_ wanted everything to go right out there. _I_ wanted it all to be perfect."

"I can hardly imagine," Bunny said.

"There were times when I would be done with a performance and just hate how it went until Quint told me otherwise or some other person who had been there to see. Doing well meant that he would be happy and so would I. But he doesn't stay happy for very long—a day at the most and then he'd be back to his normal self. There was always more to learn, more times to disappoint him. He wouldn't try to attack me when he knew a public appearance was coming up and he always tried to avoid the face—if not, there was make-up for that. So being in the public's eye was safe. Performing was safe. But that wasn't always a pleasant place. I couldn't always please them. Just as people could claim to love me, some claimed the opposite. So there was really no safe place.

"Quint was always there to tell me what to do. He gave me direction where I had none." Malachi was by now unsure of what point he was trying to get to, but Bunny didn't stop him so he continued. "He told me to always try to look and act as young as possible, to smile all the time, always be cleanshaven, to only eat a certain way, never to reveal too much about myself to anyone, to always be an eligible bachelor, to never make a mistake in any facet of my life. One day, I just hated him. I didn't quite understand why, but I couldn't stand to be around him any longer. I couldn't live in his house. That was a scary moment because I didn't _know_ anyone else. I would be alone and I hated that feeling probably more than anything else—that and starving. I've seen people die from that. I wanted my own place and despite not wanting to I just found it easier to be alone. For a long time, it was just me in a house by myself. I'd do all the things I needed to do stay relevant and to continue my career, even pretend as if I was having the time of my life to the public, but every day I'd return to that empty house. I could tolerate him at a distance, just keeping him as a business associate, but anything else, I'm not sure if I could stomach it. I don't know if I could ever stomach it."

He stopped talking after this, running out of words to say. Bunny had since continued on his hair with her fingers. It was still comforting. In fact, he didn't feel at all self-conscious despite disclosing to her things he'd probably not told anyone else.

"Malachi," Bunny said after a while, her voice gentle. "What do you see when you look at a mirror?"

"I tend to avoid those things."

"Strange for someone who probably has to pay more attention to his outward appearance than most. I'm sure you haven't completely avoided them. Tell me what you see."

"Why is that so important to you?"

"It's important," she replied unperturbed.

Malachi sighed at this. The words he was about to say was now the only thing on his mind as he hesitated and hesitated. Bunny was patient and said nothing further as the silence drew on. He noticed that the volume to the television had been turned down and he hadn't the slightest clue what the two actors on screen were doing aside from talking. "I never like what I see there. Everything's always wrong and I have no idea how to fix it. I don't _know_ what's wrong either and I can't ever fix it. Quint has always had those answers and I just do as he always told me to do and call it a day."

"You are quite handsome," Bunny said, "When you happen to look at a mirror again and take a good look at yourself, you should say that to yourself. You should repeat that."

"That sounds utterly ridiculous."

"Maybe, but it would mean a lot to me if you did that. You've known Bra for a long time. You know she can be quite superficial. She would never have given you the time of day if your appearance wasn't up to her standards."

"Beauty is in the eye of the beholder and we all know that this family isn't exactly normal."

"It certainly isn't, but that's not my point. It's a dangerous thing to not like who you are. Quint shouldn't have the last say-so in that. Grow out a beard if you like. Let your hair be what it naturally is."

"That would just make it worse. I've never tried to grow out a beard and I'm definitely not going to start now. Probably wouldn't look all that nice anyway. Just to mess with my fans I'll try to look as different as possible? Good one. Also, that really sounds like a good disguise. Would hate to ruin it by showing it to the world," he finished clearly amused with her suggestions.

"The point is, do whatever you feel like you need to do. You should be the one who decides what's best for yourself and not anyone else."

"I understand what you're saying. It's not as desperate as you're making it sound. I just don't particularly like what I see in the mirror whether I've decided on things or not."

"You've never been satisfied with your own appearance?"

"No," Malachi confirmed with a sigh. "And you sound disappointed."

"Of course I'm not. I could never be disappointed with you, honey. It just makes me a little sad that you don't see yourself as I see you or how most other people do. I'll just have to shower you with compliments."

"I'm not sure I'd be able to handle all that, Bunny. I get enough as it is."

"And I suppose you think everyone is just lying to you."

"People don't care what you look like so long as you have money. They'll be the nicest people in the world to you no matter what you look like."

"Do you really think I'm that way too?"

"Like I said before—weird family with different opinions on that sort of thing."

She laughed at this. "You have an excuse for everything, don't you? I suppose it was silly of me to try to change your opinion on something so subjective."

"I respect your opinion," he said after a moment, "I just don't share the same one."

"Has this Quint ever apologized to you?"

Malachi snorted at this. "I'm not holding my breath. He's not that kind of person. It was different back then. I imagine it must have been difficult trying to teach some kid off the street how to perform in front of thousands of people. I learned a lot from him."

"You're making excuses for him."

"I'm just acknowledging that he was necessary. Without him, I certainly wouldn't be here right now talking to the likes of you."

"Even so, he was the adult, he should have known better. No parent should treat a child like that—there's no excuse. Yes, he adopted you, but that doesn't make everything else okay."

"I'll be sure to tell him all that next time I see him."

"I'm being very serious right now, Malachi."

"He's just not going to apologize. I don't see how that is ever going to change."

Bunny was quiet for a moment. "Well then, how about this? Next time I see him, I'll give him a nice crisp slap across the face."

Malachi laughed at this. "I'd love to be there if that happens."

"I'll do one on your behalf and then another on mine."

"The look on his face would be priceless."

"He deserves a lot more than that, but that will have to suffice," Bunny said back.

Malachi wondered how serious the woman was being, but he'd never known her to say something that wasn't out of sincerity. Their conversation fizzled out at this point and Malachi felt as if he'd been speaking for hours though only a short amount of time had passed. The movie they hadn't been watching had already ended and the credits were rolling by. He hadn't expected to say so much and half the things he'd uttered were things he'd kept to himself for as long as he could remember. He always convinced himself that it wasn't worth mentioning, that these things were past tense and didn't affect him now, but he wondered how true that really was. He remembered those things from his childhood vividly despite actively trying to forget. It wasn't as if Quint was completely out of his life. The man seemed to cling onto him with undying tenacity.

His ringtone was going off again. He might have ignored it if he wasn't watching a movie with someone else in the dead of night. Bunny was in a better position to pull out his phone and after failing his first attempt at grabbing it, she slipped her hand into his back pocket and took it out. He waited for her to hand it to him, but she never did. Instead, she turned off the ringer and placed it on the table out of his reach.

"Who was it?" Malachi asked wearily.

"Quint. 13 missed calls," she reported.

"It's always something urgent with that guy. Maybe I should—"

"How about you worry about that tomorrow? Let's just enjoy the night."

Malachi had no real motivation to protest so he simply let it be. Besides, another movie was just beginning after five minutes of ads.


	65. This Is It

**Bra stepped in from work one day being somewhat in a good mood.** She'd been kept busy at the CC troubleshooting center and time had just flown by. In fact, she felt as if it had all gone too fast. She'd have to go back home and for months now that had become a less exciting prospect. Every time she looked at Malachi now, all she felt was guilt because she knew he was not doing well. He'd had two more episodes in the last week and each time he'd not been doing anything at all. They'd gone back to the doctor and been sent home having acquired little reassurance that things would not continue as they were. Sixty days had passed and it did not seem as if Malachi's condition had improved by much.

The few times he had smiled or laughed in the recent past were out of irony or sarcasm, but he hardly did any of that now. It was difficult for her to keep saying that things would get better when she hardly believed it herself. Despite her misgivings, he finally did take on a few small gigs and guest appearances, but it wasn't a huge affair and soon he was safe and back home.

That's all she wanted at this point—for him to be safe and alive. She knew that was no way to live and that Malachi wouldn't be happy living so carefully and so afraid that something outside of his control could happen again, but she wanted that. She wanted him to be around, she wanted to know that he wasn't doing anything to exacerbate the issue. His presence gave her comfort and no one else could do that. As she walked upstairs that day, she knew Malachi was probably in that small room staring at a computer screen. Jensen thankfully wasn't anywhere nearby so the path to her room was uninterrupted. These days, it was better to not even be in the same room with the boy. His vehemence of her was exhausting to deal with on a normal basis. This had not improved in the least and Bra wasn't sure if there was any hope of repairing their relationship. There was one bright point, Jensen wouldn't argue with her if Malachi was nearby, but then that had always been the case. Malachi had to know what was happening, she hoped he'd spoken to the boy on this, but she was certainly not going to pressure Malachi about it—he had too much to deal with as it was.

When she got to the room, she was greeted with Malachi's ringtone. He must have left his phone in the room. Curious, she located the phone underneath Malachi's pillow and read the caller ID: Quint. Under the name was a message informing her that there had been 59 missed calls.

"Geez," Bra said to herself.

Though she was not in the habit of answering people's phones, she decided to make an exception in this case. She'd gotten the impression that Quint wasn't Malachi's favorite person to talk to and it was very likely that he'd deliberately left his phone here. She was simply going to let the man know that now just wasn't the best time to call. If Malachi wanted to talk, he'd answer immediately; it wasn't necessary to call so many times. Not to mention that it was quite obnoxious.

"Yes?" Bra said wearily when she accepted the call.

"Who's this?" Quint said at once. She could tell that he was already upset.

"His girlfriend," Bra said back snappily. "I need you to stop calling this phone. He doesn't even have it on him and I've never seen him do that before."

"That insolent, little—"

"I will _not_ have you calling him outside of his name. Either you stop calling or I'll make you wish you did," Bra said in threatening tones.

The man seemed to think better of his words since he paused a bit before replying. "Could you just give him a message then, sweetheart?"

"I'm not a sweetheart and I'll decide if I pass on your message. So what is it?"

"A representative from the music awards show is interested in having him perform—it's one of the most prestigious honors ever and he's probably going to win a lot of awards too. It would just be the icing on the cake, the thing that cements him as the best in his craft in the public's eye. Now does that sound like something you want to pass on to him?"

"I suppose, but he might not be feeling up to performing."

"Yes, yes, I understand his condition. He's made a few appearances already. He told me about how his coordination is a bit off, but I'm telling you he's just blowing things out of proportion. I've seen him dance and I literally don't see anything off about it."

"Recently?" Bra asked.

"Yes, recently. Didn't you see him too on that popular variety show?"

"I did, but I thought maybe he had to work really hard to pull it off and that it'd be difficult to do anything longer."

"We had to cut his performance in half due to time constraints. It was much longer than that and I was there when we were coming up with the routine. He got everything just like that, just like always."

"But then why…?"

"Is he so worried about it?" Quint said finishing her sentence. "He's always been like that. He's a perfectionist. If one little thing goes wrong, he doesn't like the entire performance—he thinks he's failed miserably. The only way he's convinced otherwise is if a lot of people praise it or, and this is an odd little fact, if a child claims that they like it. So he's fine, alright. He told me that sop story about having two left feet and then he just goes right out there and just pulls it off."

"So it's all in his head?" Bra asked.

"Yes, that's what I've been saying. Maybe he'll listen to you."

"Maybe, maybe not. I'll let him know, but you better stop calling his phone like some clingy ex or I won't say a word."

"Alright, alright," the man said, "This was just really important."

"Have a good day, Quint," Bra said before ending the call abruptly.

Bra sighed to herself. That was good news actually. Everything Quint had told her was good. Maybe she should have known too. It wasn't exactly news to her that he was a bit of a perfectionist, but he was only like that when it came to his music for the most part. She'd gone to a few of his recording sessions and found them to be almost sleep inducing when they repeated the same thing over and over again; it would usually be because Malachi wasn't satisfied, something was out of tune, or something else could have been done better. Who knew better than Malachi about how something should sound?—she certainly was no expert. Now she wondered if he was just seeing imperfections where there weren't any. She wondered if there wasn't some underlying issue that made him see the world slightly different from others.

* * *

 **Malachi spent his days tapping away on a keyboard finding nothing else of even vague interest to do.** Jensen wasn't always there to type for him nor did he feel it necessary to call him every time he wanted to. He certainly didn't want to be responsible for trapping the boy in one room for hours on end. Jensen did enough of that already. He was always glad when Astor could distract him from worrying about him. The girl practically lived here at this point for all the time she spent at the house.

It seemed all he had was time on his hands and this was a much better pastime than wallowing in self-pity as Bra had put it. He was no longer frustrated with how slow he could make the letters appear on the screen, he'd grown used to it and he'd adjusted his expectations. Still, it was slow-going.

This day was turning out like all the others only perhaps there was some cause for celebration—he was done typing. He'd spent hours and days of his life pondering about instant transmission in all the ways theoretically that it could be done and he painstakingly wrote all his ideas down. Then he read over it again more than once in order to inspire himself to delve further. He knew there were no articles he could read on the subject. All he had was his own intuition. In total, he came up with five different scenarios and at that point it was beginning to feel a bit hopeless. In fact, it _was_ hopeless. He had no direction yet he still had this silly drive to figure it out. Who was he, a mere human, to discover how such a simplistically complex technique could work when Vegeta with all his knowledge of combat and ki utilization had no clue? Vegeta hadn't even scratched the surface. Why did he think he could do any better? Was he still trying to impress him? There was no need, was there? It wasn't as if he was ever going to step foot into that gravity room or even begin to fight someone.

As the word document became longer and longer spanning dozens of pages, he wondered if he was simply in over his head. After reading through his theories, he concluded that only two of them showed any promise of being the true reasoning behind the technique. All that was left to do was to try things out, but he had no strength left for it. Physically, he was spent. He tired easily these days and though he hated to admit it, he didn't want to do anything that could bring on another episode. Experiencing it once had been enough, but after several more times, it became something that truly bothered him even more than that, he feared them. Being repeatedly brought to the edge of a cliff where he might fall and die was beginning to take its toll on him and he hated that.

In the fleeting remnants of celebration came the wave of doubt and hopelessness that plagued every aspect of his life. What had he done, but typed a few unsubstantiated claims on a document that no one was going to see? What impact could he have on the world around him if he could scarcely walk a few steps without being unnaturally afraid for his own life? What even could he do for his own family in that case? More and more he felt exactly like a waste of space. He was simply waiting for Bra to confirm his thoughts. Try as he might, he couldn't see why she bothered keeping him around. Sex still came at infrequent intervals and that had occurred out of his own desperation and fear that she might leave him if he didn't at least try to keep her interest. He'd been unable to make her smile for quite some time. He couldn't even make himself smile let alone someone else.

With a sigh, he minimized the window on the screen and laid his head down upon crossed arms. He couldn't tell if he was just tired or utterly depressed. He tried to focus on something good and bright, anything at all, but every time he tried, the image or thought would fade and darken.

"Oh my god, Malachi, what's wrong?" Bra asked from behind him.

He was startled a bit by her concern as he heard her rush over to him and place a gentle hand on his back. He didn't like the idea of making her worry so much and especially not for the likes of him. He hated that he seemed to have such influence over her emotions like that.

"Nothing, I'm fine," he said sitting up and looking at her, attempting to maintain a neutral expression.

"You're not," Bra stated.

It was hard for him to argue with the plain truth. "I was just typing something. I think I finished it."

"Well," she said thoughtfully, "That's good, right?" Bra said with a subtle smile.

"I suppose."

Her smile became wider. He recognized her genuine happiness, but it didn't reach him in the slightest. "I got some good news from Quint."

"You spoke to him?" Malachi asked concerned. "He has your number now? I swear that man doesn't know when to quit," he finished with a frown.

"He's not so bad," Bra began.

Malachi snorted at this. "You spoke to him once on the phone. Don't claim to have an opinion on someone you know nothing about."

" _Maybe_ if you told me about him, I _would_ have an opinion on him. He's your father and you never invite him over. You never talk about him."

"I don't want to talk about him," Malachi said stolidly, "He's not worth my breath. The less I see of him, the better. The only reason I haven't blocked his number is because he could still be useful to me from a business standpoint."

"First of all, he didn't call me. Your phone was ringing nonstop so I picked it up just so I could tell him to stop. Second, he didn't sound so bad over the phone. He wanted to tell you that you've been invited to the music awards show, I'm guessing it's the worldwide one, and he said he thinks your dancing technique is just fine the way it is."

"Well, if you ever happen to pick the phone up again, tell him I'm not coming. I'm not dancing. I'm not singing. I'm not doing anything."

Bra huffed exasperatedly. "And what will you be doing? Sitting in here all day? You got to come outside every once in a while."

"I sit on the porch."

"I mean, you—we need to get out more. We've just been at this house for months now. Don't you feel trapped?"

"You can go wherever you please, Bra, I just won't be there with you."

"Malachi," she began, wearily lifting both her arms up and letting them fall back to her side. "I really don't think things are really as bad as you're making them. I bet you actually can dance with no problem and somehow you've gotten it into your head that you suck at it now. How many other things have you stopped doing because you think you can't do it that well anymore?"

"What are you trying to say?" Malachi said with a frown.

"I'm saying you shouldn't give up on everything so easily."

He nodded at her with the first beginnings of a smile. "More stirring advice from the wise Bra. The woman who never had to deal with ailments or diseases. She never had to feel pain physically, mentally, or emotionally. Born with a silver spoon in her mouth." One of his hands had clenched up all on its own. His smile had been an ironic one. "She never had to deal with the common issues that us regular folk had to contend with on a regular basis. Lucky enough to have such a strong and loving family, to benefit from having a stable foundation, and to be endowed with genetics that made you strong, beautiful, and intelligent. _You_ want to tell _me_ about not giving up so easily? You haven't the first idea what that even means. I've never given up on anything without trying my damnest to make it work. I've lived my entire life like that. So if _I_ say I can't do something," his other hand had turned into a fist as well and his voice had risen quite a few decibels. Bra had stepped back twice, but he hadn't moved from his seat. "I know what the hell I'm talking about! It's all in my head? You got that from Quint? You don't even know who he is really. Never met him yet you're taking _his_ words at face value? You take his words over mine?!"

He stopped when he found her looking at him fearfully which wasn't something he'd ever experienced before. Though he was thoroughly riled up, he was equally confused at her reaction.

"Please, Malachi, don't be upset. I'm sorry," she said quickly, "I didn't mean to question you like that," Bra said instead of arguing back.

"What is this?" Malachi asked. "You're apologizing?" he said sharply.

Bra nodded. "I should do it more, I know. Just calm down, alright?"

His jaws had become tight, but slowly as he grudgingly took her advice, his muscles relaxed and he spread out his fists. "Sorry," he said hoarsely as he turned back to his desk. "Didn't mean to get so worked up. I just…hate giving up and I keep wondering if I've done that or not. I keep going back and forth in my head. To have someone else accuse me of it doesn't exactly help. You're probably right." He lowered his head, placing his chin upon his arms.

Bra stepped closer to him until she was able to place a hand on his back and rub it gently a few times. She placed her chin upon his shoulder though she did not lean too much into it. "It's alright, we'll figure something out."

They were quiet for a moment as he let those words sink in. He wanted to believe her, but he could think of nothing to support her claim and she'd repeated the same sentence a few times before. He felt as if he'd gotten nowhere and he didn't feel as if that reality would ever change. Just like always, he was simply banging his head against a stone wall. He needed to focus on something else, anything else he could actually do or change right now.

"I spoke to Jensen," Malachi said after a while.

"You did?" she asked with healthy interest. She stood up fully at this.

"I had no idea things had gotten so bad between you and him."

"I didn't want to saddle you with more problems, but…I'm glad you did. He'll listen to you."

"It's not so cut and dry. Last time, I was barely able to convince him to give you another chance when I first moved back in. There's not really much I can say now. He's made a decision."

"Then tell him he's wrong," Bra said back.

"I told him the world isn't so black and white and that its full of gray area. He insists that it isn't quite so complicated. I tell him that there's a reason things are the way they are and he tells me that he knows them full well. What else can I say to him? He's told me exactly how he feels and he has his own reasons as well. How can I tell him that that's wrong? Is that what parents are supposed to do? Manipulate their children into always agreeing with them?"

"No, Malachi, you tell him to respect adults and especially his mother."

"He doesn't see you as his mother. You've never established yourself that way to him. I've never seen it. Other than the fact that we're dating, you've given him no reason to see you like that. Do I tell him to blindly respect people because it seems sensible or just because I said so? Who am I to force him to do those things?"

"Because he's a child and you're an adult. You forget that sometimes. You can't treat children like they're adults."

"I know that, but we do that because children aren't always capable of grasping the full meaning of things. I only use that 'I'm an adult, you're a child' thing when it applies. Can you honestly say that he's so off base with his reasoning? Do you think you deserve respect from him?"

"Of course I do," she said exasperatedly, "And I would think you would say the same."

"But why?"

"What do you mean why?" she asked confused.

"Why do you think you deserve that from him? What have you done to make him think that?"

"Are you accusing me of something," Bra said haughtily. "As a parent, you're supposed to be backing me up, not encouraging bad behavior. Parenting 101."

"I am," he said sitting up and looking towards her. "I'm telling you what he said about you. I'm helping you, him, us fix this. I don't feel comfortable telling him things just cus'. I need a real reason. It needs to make sense to me. So tell _me_ why he should respect you—a good reason."

Her eyes narrowed as she looked at him and he felt as if he'd said exactly the wrong thing. He felt in that moment as if he was looking at the whole situation the wrong way. Why was she looking at him like that? Why couldn't she see what he was saying? In reality, he was scrambling through the dark trying to find some 'right' way to traverse the unknown. He hadn't the slightest clue how he 'should' be acting or what the general public considered normal. He only had his own logic, but more often than not, it wasn't enough in most situations.

"You really don't understand, do you?" she said and he felt his heart sink at the sentiment. Was he totally off base? "This rudeness of his that he's had towards me forever now has only worsened because no one has done or said anything about it and you won't even support me. He listens to you and you can't even tell him to just do the right thing. With him, I can't do anything unless _you_ help me and for some reason you just won't. We can have disagreements, that's fine, but you don't bring a child into it. He's not an adult, okay? The only thing he needs to worry about is respecting other adults and I'm part of that group. I don't need to explain anything to a child. If I do, it's my prerogative not something I _must_ do."

Malachi looked away from her when she said this. "I don't agree with that. If he's capable of understanding things, then we owe it to him to explain ourselves fully. Adults ain't all that their cracked up to be. We're fallible and prone to making mistakes. Just because someone's your legal guardian or they've taken some lengths in taking care of you, doesn't mean we now have the right to order him around and insult his intelligence. That's just something I won't be a part of wrong or right, Bra. I won't do it."

"So you'll let him run all over top of you? I don't know how it was _you_ were raised, but that's just not how it works."

"I was always told what to do and given no explanation as to why things were the way they were. No one encouraged me to think for myself only to follow the rules and that there were severe consequences if I disobeyed. I was woefully ill-equipped as an adult, having to find things out the hard way. That's not what I want for Jensen or any of my children. I won't be a part of that way of raising someone who needs to be taught how to think rather than rules. So you tell me, Bra, why should he respect you? If you can convince me, then I'll convince him."

Her mouth had become a hard line. "You seemed to have come out just fine for all your critiquing. I bet you never would have dreamed of talking to your father in that way."

"No, I wouldn't. It's hard for me even to do it now, but that doesn't make it right. If you think I've turned out 'just fine', then it's only through learning from many, many mistakes. When did this become a conversation about how _I_ was raised? It's nothing that needs to be emulated. Maybe we need to just decide now how we plan on raising our children. Will we simply order them around because it's something we think is right or will we treat them with the same respect we expect in return from them even if they may not understand it all the time."

"Oh my god, Malachi, they're just kids."

"I remember you telling me how good you thought I was with them. Were you just trying to say something nice or did you really mean it?"

"Jr. and Machi are just babies—completely different from Jensen. I lose my patience pretty easily and you don't, that's the gist of it. Jensen is just a question mark and it hard for me to like a kid who's never really liked me anyway."

"Like you said, Jensen is just a kid and in that way, that makes it all the more easier to get him to like you. You could change his mind if you really wanted to. He's really impressionable and he's also really forgiving—trust me, he is. Actually spend time with the kid and he'll like you. It's that easy. That's all I've been trying to say. Give him a reason to respect him. Don't force him to do it. Don't sacrifice his freedom of thought just to get your way. It isn't necessary and that would be cruel to force that on him. You don't need to."

"But where is the punishment, Malachi," Bra said. It seemed as if she was considering his words. "If you heard all the things he's said to me, you wouldn't be so forgiving."

"Punish him for acting on what he thought was the right thing to do? His motives come from an innocent place. I wouldn't feel right making him feel bad about it. I only want him to learn from his mistakes. It's okay to make them. It's not something that should be discouraged so much."

Bra sighed. "His intentions might have been in the right place, but it's his actions that matter in the end," she said with crossed arms.

Malachi shook his head at this sentiment. "With all due respect, Bra, that's the exact same reasoning _he_ uses to justify his behavior towards you."

A moment later, realization came across her expression. She opened her mouth once and then closed it on second thought. Her expression then became sheepish. "I guess I'm one to talk, huh? That's how you always look at things, isn't it? What was the intention? And that answer means a great deal to you."

"At some point in my life, it was the only thing that made sense to me in a bid to see something positive in all the bad things I'd seen people do. I wanted to believe that there was a reason and if there is a reason, then the world could be somewhat orderly and not always so chaotic and meaningless. That's what I liked to tell myself. I want to believe the same thing about you."

Her eyes softened at this. "Has anyone told you how incredibly naïve you are?"

"Jensen tells me that all the time in his own way."

She grinned at this and then approached him. As he was sitting down, she had to lower herself to her knees to reach the prime position to kiss him. It had been awhile, he realized as their lips touched again. As cold and empty as his heart felt, in the brief moments that she was nearby and when he could hold her in his grasp, he felt the small sparks of warmth and companionship. But they were mere sparks in the end. There was no oxygen left to ignite the flames. He pulled away first, fearful that she might sense his despair.

"I don't really deserve you, do I?" Bra said as she leaned forward so that their foreheads could touch.

"I'm grateful for everything you've given me. You gave me a lot more than you realize," he replied with the remnants of a smile.

"Must you always be so humble, Mr. Top-Charting Worldwide Phenomenon?"

"Everyone knows how fleeting fame can be and how cruel the media came be once their done with you. If I measured my self-worth based off their opinions, I'd be lost already. _This_ is what I cherish most," he said as he ran a hand through her hair. "This family which has accepted me and allowed me to be myself and this family that we managed to create. Those things matter to me over anything else in the world."

She was smiling now and he felt a bit more at ease. He hadn't seen her smile like that for far too long; he'd felt guilty about it.

"I'm going to go check in on the kids—you should join me," Bra said.

Though it sounded like a suggestion, he knew it was more like an order. It wasn't as if this was a thing that he dreaded doing and he knew what she was doing. He was sure she must have noticed that he'd significantly cut back his time spent with them and she probably associated it with his less than cheerful moods as of late. He loved those children no less than usual, but he knew that he wasn't in the greatest state of mind and the last thing he wanted to do was poison their innocent, impressionable minds with his negativity. He didn't avoid them altogether—he always made sure to spend time with them almost every day. It might have been the only thing keeping him going. They could so easily fill his dull, gray world with joy, but there were times when he hated that. He didn't want to be made to feel good about anything. Despite the pain associated, it was just easier to avoid all things meant to de-claw the reality in which he lived. He wanted to feel every ounce of despair and hopelessness because he felt that this was the truth. Everything else was utter lies and false hope. No one was ever going to tell him that things could get worse, but Malachi knew that it was all too possible. No one really bounced back from a bad heart once permanent damage was done. There was no improving his overall health, the doctor had all but said that outright at the last visit in which he was told there was nothing else to be done. He was taking all the right medicine and doing all the right things. This was it. In time, his condition would worsen.

With his mind heavy with despondency, he accepted Bra's invitation, but he did it simply to appease her and his driving need to make sure she was happy and showered with enough attention. That need had long since turned into a desperate, never-ending struggle in which he felt he could not win. He felt utterly incompetent and often spent days wondering why she hadn't just ended things already—maybe someone was blackmailing her, maybe she simply pitied him, maybe she had enough guilt to justify it to herself.

He wasn't getting much sleep anymore and no one knew this better than Bunny who he would spend a good number of his sleepless nights with. On the nights in which she didn't join him which were plenty, the nights seemed even darker. He had no motivation to entertain himself with a television or even music. He would simply sit in silence as his mind remained trapped in a room full of disgust and hopelessness and there was no longer a door in which to escape.

Though Jr. and Machi were once again successful in thoroughly tiring him out, he knew rest would be fleeting at best. Not wanting to spend another long night in the living room or on the porch or pretending to sleep when he was in the bed with Bra, he opted for a change of scenery. He told Bra that he'd left some things at his other house—the place he'd yet to officially move out of—and that he'd be back the next morning. This didn't exactly sit well with Bra: What stuff did he need to get? Why couldn't it wait for tomorrow? You don't need to tire yourself out moving things. But Malachi insisted that it was important and that it wasn't much. He never elaborated on just what it was he was looking for and she didn't push the issue.

He wasn't looking for anything, of course. There was nothing left to search for. There was nothing left to do.

* * *

 **Bra woke up abruptly with a shortness of breath and her left side on fire.** Such a feeling was so far removed from her realm of reality that, at first, she wasn't really registering it at all. Her mind couldn't even begin to fathom what was happening. She was gasping freely now and clawing at the sheets in frustration. Why couldn't she breathe? What was stopping her from doing it? It made no sense. She just wanted it all to go away and when she tried to scream only a small screech came out. Determinedly, she tried to sit up so that she could regain some control however artificial. As she did so, her normal breathing returned much to her relief. Why had it been so hard in the first place? She shook her left arm out and it was as if nothing had ever happened. The symptoms had all mysteriously vanished.

As she looked around, she realized that not all was well. Her world seemed painted in literal hues of gray tones. It startled her, at first. She remained frozen as she waited for her mind to come up with a reasonable explanation. As the strangeness persisted, she slid over to the side of the bed and placed her feet on the ground. The carpet felt all wrong—too soft. What color had it been before? It appeared dull and gray.

She wondered why she bothered even trying to get up today. It would just be filled with the same rigmarole as yesterday. The kids would be kids. Jensen would still hate her. Malachi would always be sad. She would always be useless in helping anyone aside from herself.

The future held no particular interest to her as she tried and failed at picturing it in her mind. Malachi was never going to marry her. That had been her conclusion for a while now. She'd ruined her chances with that over and over again. How could he trust her anymore? How could anyone trust her? And now he seemed far away from her deciding it was a good idea to spend the night by himself in some dusty, empty house rather than spend it with her. But more than that, she sensed that there were things that he still yet kept from her for whatever reason. No matter how many times she said she wouldn't judge him, no matter how hard she tried to appear as an understanding person for which he could tell and confess anything to, he still did not. She blamed Pan. That woman probably knew more about him than anyone else in the whole world and it was all because she had managed to convince him to trust her. What did Pan have that she didn't? Why did Malachi allow her to keep having that over her? _She_ was the girlfriend, but sometimes it felt like it was only in name. While, admittedly, she didn't have a lot of emotional baggage or issues that she had to deal with in the past, she still had opened herself up completely to him and she had expected that he would do the same.

Why did it all feel so hopeless all of a sudden? Why did it feel as if their relationship had come to another wall? There was nothing that could be done. There were no real solutions to the problems. It would always be this way; she would always fail. When she looked about her room again, she found the windows seemed to have disappeared out of existence. The door was missing as well, but not off his hinges. In place of these openings was a bare wall. As she stood up and looked around again, the walls had become completely bare and the grayness became more pronounced.

"What…?" Bra uttered under her breath.

Though none of it made sense, she lacked any real drive to try and figure things out. She found herself not wanting to even stand anymore moving slowly into a sitting position on the ground. The bed was gone. Everything was gone. Just the walls, floor and her were left in the world. There was no one else, was there? No one could help her. No one really cared. People were two-faced and only benefited you insomuch as it benefited themselves. What was this heavy feeling in her chest and why did she feel so anchored to the ground?

She knew there must be something else to life than just this, but she couldn't see it. She couldn't escape. She became painfully aware that she _couldn't_ escape and that made things almost unbearable. Knowing that there was a world outside this existence and that there was no way that it could be reached any longer was a hard pill to swallow. She didn't want this anymore, she realized a bit too late. This wasn't right. None of this was right. _Please let me out._ _Please let me out!_

She made herself smaller on the ground and lowered her head in the safety of her arms hoping that something might be done, but knowing that nothing would be done if she just sat there. She had no energy left to change things. She'd created this place to wallow and suffer and the only one who could find an exit was herself. But her eyes couldn't see.

This was it.

"Bra, what's wrong, are you okay?" she heard her father say with uncommonly obvious concern.

When she looked up, she was able to see him perfectly in full vibrant color. In fact, she was sitting on the side of her bed and he was standing in front of her. The transition happened so effortlessly that she could scarcely convince herself that what she'd been feeling before was even real. It had felt so foreign. Whatever it had been, she was extremely relieved to have escaped to what she recognized as real. Wordlessly, she wrapped her arms around her father's solid form. She squeezed harder than usual afraid that this might still be some sort of dream.

"I'm so glad you're here," she said as words began to tumble out. "I'm so glad you're my dad. I'm so glad that Mom's around. I'm so glad that _everyone_ is still around and that you guys still put up with me and that I never had to question any of that. I'm glad that I never had to experience anything other than that. I'm just...so happy right now."

Her father had placed his arms around her as well and immediately she felt safe. She felt that nothing at all was wrong in the world and if there was, they would be able to deal with it.

"Bra," he said after a while as he pulled away from her embrace which had continued on for a few minutes. "Tell me what's wrong."

Standing apart from him now, all she could do was smile. "Nothing, Dad. Nothing. I just had a horrible dream."

"Just a dream?" he said after a moment, "I guess that does explain things."

Her heart stopped when her mind came to Malachi and she couldn't sense him. She had no idea where he could be. Focusing now on his house, she still couldn't feel his presence. The more she tried, she began to notice a certain emptiness in place of what she would normally sense. It was like staring into a spot where you knew something to be, but not actually seeing it.

"Dad," she began deciding that her father had to be miles better at sensing others and he must have by now grown accustomed to Malachi's ki signature. "I don't know what's going on, but I don't sense Malachi. Can you just tell me where he is?"

Sensing others was not a drawn-out affair and at her word, she knew he must have been trying to do so. His expression became grave.

"Well?" Bra asked wanting him to just point her in the right direction. If he was in trouble, then they needed to get there all the more.

"Bra…" he began slowly, but he seemed to not be able to form the words.

"Just spit it out already. Is he doing that thing again where he's blocking his ki signature."

"Bra," he began again. His tone hadn't changed. "He's not blocking his ki signature."

"Okay, then what is it?" She was bristling now. He wasn't usually so hesitant.

His eyes turned to the window. "He's no longer living."

Her eyebrows furrowed at this not really believing the words coming out of his mouth. No, that couldn't be right. He couldn't die. That was impossible. The more she tried to sense him, the more that empty feeling became more apparent. Could that be the sensation of trying to feel someone who was not alive? Was there nothing left now to sense?

She knew where he was. He was where he'd said he'd go last night in his house alone. Everything else became background noise to her need to see him right then. Maybe just maybe she could do something. Maybe a Senzu bean. Maybe Jensen. She ran out of the room at full speed and headed straight for Jensen who was currently in his room probably just woken. She didn't care if he liked her or not and she certainly didn't have time for explanations, he was coming with her and that was final. Getting a Senzu bean was a tall order since the household held none in their possession at this point. She texted Pan quickly and demanded she bring one to Malachi's place and that it was a matter of life and death.

She had grabbed Jensen by the wrist and had him in a death grip as she used the limited ki knowledge she had to break open the nearest window and fly out into the sky.

"Stop squirming!" Bra ordered Jensen in a panicked voice. "I need you to use your healing on your dad. I can't sense him—he's…well, he's not doing well, alright?"

"Alright!" Jensen shouted back sensing her panic and being equally charged by it. "Just lemme go—I can fly, you know."

Bra released him immediately. "Then keep up."

Her mind was so one-tracked that she'd already forgotten her father and that he had even been there to begin with, but she was reminded when he called out to her from above.

"I'll get the Senzu bean," he said.

That was all she heard from him as he took off in his accelerated form. If anyone could get things in short order, it was her father. She was grateful for his help. She flew as fast she could to Malachi's house which wasn't very far away. It was in the same city, but on the suburban outcrops. When she arrived, once again, she didn't use the door. She used her ki to burst through one of his bedroom windows and she scrambled to his side. For a brief surreal moment, déjà vu took her senses by surprise. This was her dream come reality minus all the paramedics. Everything was so quiet and he laid very still on that bed. The sheets were undisturbed and his arms, though they weren't folded upon his chest—he never slept like that—they were simply at his side. He appeared to be peacefully resting, but something was wrong with that scene aside from the obvious, but she couldn't figure out what. It wasn't as if she'd had much experience seeing things like this. Only the fact that she had some semblance of a plan stopped her from falling apart altogether in a waterfall of tears.

"Jensen," Bra called out to the boy reminding him what he needed to do.

He'd grown stiff in what appeared to be either terror or sadness. Jensen stepped over to the bed and Bra moved back so that he could have space to do his thing. Tears were already starting to fall down his cheeks.

"Please, Daddy…" he said hoarsely.

He sounded so pitiful, she could hardly hold it together. Her eyes hadn't left Malachi. There was absolutely no movement from him. No breathing. No twitching. No anything. Jensen was shaking as he took hold of his hand and he sat on the bed leaning over him.

"Daddy…please…" Jensen croaked. "Please don't…"

Time seemed to slow considerably and it seemed as if they were there for ages. All she could hear was Jensen's sniffling and his soft remarks. He'd been grasping his hand, but now he had fallen atop him as his crying only intensified and he was wailing and carrying on. The boy was a wreck.

"I can't," Jensen managed to say with some clarity. "I just can't…I can't reach him…It's not like before," he said with a quivering voice through quick breaths and hiccups.

Her eyes were watery now, but she knew she had to maintain a position of strength for Jensen's sake if he was actually going to be able to do something. She placed an empathetic hand on his shoulder. Her eyebrows were slightly furrowed now.

"Try again, Jensen, please. Try harder," she asked him.

"O-Okay," his small wavering voice managed to say.

He'd quieted a little and she could tell that he was really concentrating now. However, nothing different was happening. She didn't feel any increase in ki neither from Jensen who was trying to perform his technique or from Malachi as a result of being revived. Her frustration and panic was getting the better of her. She wanted him alive again right now. This _couldn't_ happen. This _wasn't_ happening right now. Someone had to fix this or else. She placed a firmer hand on the boy's shoulder.

"Concentrate harder, okay? Can you do that for me?"

She could tell that he was actively trying to still himself and she was sure he must have been really trying to do something, but they ended up with the same results. She continued to encourage him, pleading with him now desperately. Where was her father anyway with the Senzu bean?

"No!" Jensen shouted angrily towards her after she pleaded with him for the umpteenth time. "It's not working! I'm useless—I can't do anything right! Just stop asking!"

She knew he was done then as he placed his head upon the man's chest and just continued crying with no further comment. His body was shaking terribly now. Bra wondered if she should try to comfort him. Was that her role now? She didn't really know what to do. He probably wouldn't like anything she did in that regard—he probably hated her and now would be no different. Instead, she moved closer to the side of the bed making sure not to disturb Jensen. She knelt and bowed her head onto his shoulder as hot tears finally slid down her face. That was all she could do. That was all she could think to do.

She heard immediately when there was a new presence in the room. She lifted her head and laid eyes on Pan. Her father followed behind her.

"Give him the Senzu bean—we don't have much time," Bra said impatiently. Why was she moving so slow?

"I'm sorry, Bra," Pan said in gentle tones. "I had to see for myself just to make sure…" She stepped further into the room, her eyes now on Malachi and the crying boy upon him. "It's too late. The Senzu bean can miraculously cure the most grievous of physical injuries, but it cannot bring someone back to life."

"Let's just try anyway," Bra demanded.

Pan shook her head much to Bra's growing irritation. Bra leaped to her feet and reached her in record time and placed firm hands on her shoulders. She shook her once for good measure, but Pan did nothing to stop her. "Just try it," Bra ordered, "It doesn't hurt to try," she said desperately.

"I know that it won't work. Trust me—"

"How do you even know? You think 'cus you went to medical school you _know_ everything!"

Pan was still frustratingly calm despite the scene before her. "I tried a Senzu bean one time on a newborn puppy who had recently died of a viral infection." She looked away as she said this recalling the memory. "It was an abandoned litter of puppies left to die in a dirty alley—someone had found them and brought them in willing to pay anything to keep them alive. One by one, they died off very quickly despite everything we tried. I…tried using a Senzu bean—I only use it when I'm truly desperate. I know they're a limited resource, but in this case…" She sighed at this. "It had no effect whatsoever. Not only had I wasted that bean, it did nothing to change anything. The puppies were no longer alive and I needed to accept that. I know it's frustrating, Bra, but those beans won't work here."

"But _please_ , Pan!" Bra pleaded despite a part of her knowing that it was futile. She needed to fight for something. She couldn't just give up…not when it came to this. She was already crying again because she couldn't help it and words were becoming harder and harder to say. Her arms had gone limp now and they fell to her side. "If only we had the dragon balls…" Her eyes turned to the ground.

"No," Pan said quietly. Bra looked up at this. "Even that wouldn't help. I don't want to speculate what happened here, but…it seems like it was of natural causes and—"

"Shut-up, Pan! Just shut-up! You're not helping—all you're doing is talking! At least _I'm_ coming up with ideas! At least _I_ haven't given up!" Bra found herself barking at the woman.

She was unprepared to find herself locked in an embrace from her, but Bra accepted it and all the fury left her body as she just melted into her and let the tears overtake her.

"Natural causes?" Bra said after she managed to calm herself only a little. "This doesn't feel very natural at all. He's too young…"

"I know," Pan said kindly as she continued to rub her back. "I know. It hasn't hit me yet. I'm not even sure I can believe what I'm seeing."

After a while, Bra just wanted to see Malachi again and she migrated over to his still, cold form. She grew cold as well as her eyes gazed at him for what felt like an eternity willing him to move once again. She was still waiting for him to wake up. This was just another coma. He would be on his feet again eventually if she waited long enough. She moved his hair back a little and kissed him gently on the forehead once and then twice, but even that didn't feel the same. He didn't feel alive. There was no warmth of life. His eyelids were firmly closed. It didn't seem as if he had suffered at all. He looked at ease. He looked peaceful. Still, those dark, thoughtful eyes would never look at her again piercing through her, finding every little secret about her before she ever got the chance to utter them, finding the part of her that was worth loving.

Jensen didn't want to leave and neither did she. The rest of the day felt like a blur. She couldn't recall the things happening around her even as they were happening. People said things to her but her brain was too numb to understand anymore. She felt numb all over and she always felt on the verge of just collapsing in more tears. It seemed she couldn't stop doing that and she didn't care to stop anymore whether it be for the sake of keeping up some sort of serviceable appearance or anything else otherwise.

Things needed to be done. Malachi couldn't just stay there on that bed forever. Eventually he would be moved. Eventually arrangements would have to be made, but all that seemed so far away and insignificant.

When she was finally pulled away from Malachi and she found that she had somehow made it back to her room and that the day had already passed by, she stared up at a blank ceiling trying to think of something but finding nothing coming forth. Tears came forth easily sliding down onto the sheets, burning and hot. That was all she could do. Her head turned onto her pillow and she cried even harder into it.

Someone was rubbing her back and she felt no motivation to figure out who it was. The hands were slender though so she knew it couldn't be her father. Helplessly the tears came forth and she didn't care anymore. She just didn't care. At some point, when there was a break in her pitiful display, she heard her mother's voice.

"Cold water on the nightstand," she said quietly. "I brought you a little something to eat."

Bra couldn't think of anything to say not even in thanks, but a glass of water sounded wonderful at that moment. She sat up slowly from her mute, dark world and brought the glass up to her lips. The taste was especially refreshing—more refreshing than it had ever been before. In the small bowl, was a handful of juicy looking grapes—her favorite kind, red and seedless. She partook in these as well. It brought a little life back into her enough to at least acknowledge her mother properly. Her mother's expression was quite somber—it was a rarity and it reinforced the gravity of the situation.

"I'm sorry," her mother said after a moment.

Bra shook her head and looked to the comforters beneath her. "I just can't believe it."

"No one can," her mother said in understanding.

"Did they say," Bra said slowly, "what happened?"

"They said he passed very early in the morning in his sleep, but…" Her mother let her words hang in the air and then left it at that.

"What, Mom? You can't just say 'but' and then just leave me hanging."

"Nevermind," she said shaking her head.

"Just say it," Bra said, her eyes now more alert than they had been in a while. She wanted to know the full details of his passing even if on the other hand she didn't want to talk about it at all—she wanted the entire situation to just disappear. This wasn't happening. Malachi was still here. They had just had a little spat and he'd be back again in the morning, well and alive.

"They found some evidence of drug use." Bra's eyes widened at this. "Suspicious marks on his arm, fresh ones."

"What are you saying?" Bra asked in a wavering voice.

"I'm just telling you what I was told. They're still running tests. There may be an investigation."

"This doesn't make any sense. Malachi—he never did drugs. He—" Then her voice stopped abruptly when she realized that this wasn't entirely true. "Well, maybe a little," she said uncertainly, "But he was there by himself. He would have needed someone else—It was late. He left around ten. No doctor's around that late, are they? Right?" she asked looking up at her mom who wore a troubled expression.

"Honey, slow down, I don't think I'm following. You said he has taken drugs before?" her mother asked.

"Yeah," Bra said quietly. Her eyes were stinging again. "He said…that time on tour, the last one, the really long one, a doctor gave him drugs intravenously to sleep, but he said he was told it wasn't safe to take them so much, but he took it almost every night. He…" tears were rolling down her cheeks and she was starting to sniff again. "said he stopped after the touring was over, but that it wasn't easy. That's all I know."

"That was the only time?" her mother asked.

Bra shook her head when she realized that she had no idea. He could have just decided to tell her of this one instance, but she could neither confirm or deny if it had happened any other time. He'd had lupus and she had had no clue until circumstances revealed it. She would have gone on not knowing and she was almost certain that he had no intentions of telling her about it in the first place.

"It's alright, baby," Bulma said as she pulled her into a hug. "It's alright. I'll handle this."

"Everybody knows, don't they?" Bra asked while she stayed snugly in her mother's arms.

"About the drugs?" her mother asked confused.

"His passing. Everybody knows by now, right?"

"No," Bulma said. "We're trying to keep things quiet."

"But how?" Bra asked weakly.

Her mother shushed her soothingly. "That's not something you need to worry about. I've done this sort of thing before just not so large scale. Until we figure this thing out, only a few people will know about all this."

Bra was suddenly glad that she had someone like her mother working on her behalf. As her mind tried to ponder the possibilities, she quickly grew weary of the whole thing. None of it could bring him back.

In the end, she had not known him as well as she thought she had. This man who had affected her so profoundly was still frustratingly shrouded in an impenetrable fog. It was as if he refused to reveal himself fully to her. Did he trust her? She felt that he did even as her mind kept repeating that question. It wasn't the real issue. She wasn't even certain that there was anything she could have done to make him more forthcoming. The issue likely lied with him and the emphasis he placed on presentation and how others perceived him. That was how he saw the world. That was how he had learned to cope with it. Every single aspect of his life was a performance and he was being judged and critiqued at every turn. Even when there were no cameras, he could not escape them—not the ones which always followed him in his mind's eye. No matter how often she told him that she _wouldn't_ judge him, he could never fully convince himself to diverge from the version of himself he had decided long ago to present to her. She thought she would see glimpses of things about him that seemed contrary to everything she thought she knew. Little by little, she could discern parts of him that had begun to worry her. Explanations to why he acted as he did, seemingly wise beyond his years in some respects and incredibly naïve in others seemed to differ from what she first supposed.

That man with the beautiful smile, who always seemed so interested in her, asking her things that no one had ever bothered to ask, encouraging her where others had admonished, and listening to her when other hardly ever took her seriously. He made her feel like she mattered. He made her feel as if she was the center of the universe. At times, she was unaware just how much he had fallen for her and how vulnerable he had become around her. With a word, she could make him fall to his knees in utter despondency or she could make him the happiest man in the world. That was the thing he tried to conceal, but she knew now, she was certain now just how dependent he had become on her for his emotional well-being. She spent the least time praising him, assuming that someone like him must have been used to nonstop praise from his many, many fans. She spent the most time complaining about even the smallest of things.

His mere presence had comforted her. He never looked at her with greedy, lustful eyes as most men would eventually, even the ones who actively tried to hide it. Though she thought she might find it odd, she had come to appreciate this and even prefer it that way. His eyes were always so inquisitive, kind and gentle. He had a way of looking at her that would give her goosebumps. He liked _her_ , all of her, every single piece and there was something quite satisfying about that. He didn't really see beauty, not in the way that others did so the thing that had attracted him to her was something she could never quite figure out, but it was something fundamental, the things that made her who she was.

No matter what evidence was ever found about Malachi, she knew she was the instrument of his demise. Because of her, he had gone through so much pain and she had ultimately made him weak and vulnerable to everything else that came after. That was something she would have to live with now.

He had become the part of her life that she adored the most. She'd been scrambling to find some sort of meaning in her life for a long time and he had come out of nowhere to give her the means to do so. He made her better than she could have been otherwise. He brightened her day effortlessly and now it seemed as if the sun had been blotted out. In the dying embers of the sun, she wondered if she would ever see the light of day again.

~Fin~

* * *

 **AN** : Yeah, I know, it happened. We've finally arrived at the ending. This was something that I'd intended even before I began writing in accordance to the person I was inspired by. Then I wrestled with myself whether I should stay the course as time went on. If I didn't end it like this, this whole thing would have been for nothing, but on the other hand, I didn't realize how much I'd enjoy writing this.

Stay tuned for an epilogue that I hadn't intended on writing, but now it seems a crime not to.

And not gonna' lie, there could be a part 2, if life permits. There _are_ some untied strings of plot that were never concluded. Think I'll breathe in the fresh air for now and finally enjoy the outdoors again; maybe become inspired by something else.


	66. Epilogue

**~Epilogue~**

 **Vegeta hadn't been very familiar with human customs pertaining to death, but these past few weeks had given him a crash course and it left a bad taste in his mouth.** He and Bulma had sat through meetings after meetings deliberating what exactly was to be done to uphold the utmost secrecy. As far as anyone knew, Malachi didn't have a preference in the way things should be done and Bra was too far gone to even be questioned on it. There wasn't just a single method in which one could be put to rest. On Earth, there were many ways and the culture around it was varied. It was all quite complex and perhaps a bit too much for someone to be dealing with who might still be trying to deal emotionally with one's passing. It felt cold and harsh. Boxes needed to be checked, money needed to be paid, arrangements needed to be made. It was like planning for a wedding.

Yet these things kept him busy as he didn't feel right leaving it all to Bulma to manage. It kept his mind occupied. No one was really in the mood to do anything, but he recognized that they were in the best position to do so. Both he and Bulma contacted others to pass on the news. There was a collective sense of disbelief at how things had ended and they didn't have the full story in the beginning. That came later as they were planning out when and where the wake would occur, making sure it conflicted with the least schedules of those who knew it was happening.

Yes, Malachi had died in the way that Vegeta had already supposed—cardiac arrest—the very same kind that had sent him to the hospital in the first place only he was asleep and no one was there to help him. Just like before the resulting heart failure was directly caused by combined drug intoxication. The preliminary examination of his body—a standard practice when it came to situations where death had not occurred in a hospital and no one could confirm definitively just what had happened—revealed evidence of injections on one of his arms and they appeared to be very recent. A blood analysis revealed that there were drugs known as Propofol and Benzodiazepine as well as others to a lesser degree in his system at the time of death—enough of it to cause a lethal intoxication. It was a drug used to induce unconsciousness in patients. Such drugs especially Propofol would have likely been administered by someone else. An investigation was now being pursued, but Bulma had paid a lot of money to hire a private investigator to do so in secrecy.

None of it sat well with Vegeta. The circumstances were troubling at best. Why had Malachi decided so arbitrarily to visit his old home for some nonspecific reason? Since when was Malachi into drugs? He seemed intelligent enough to know that this would have been detrimental to his already deteriorating health. Why did he even entertain the thought? His opinion of Malachi that had developed over the years of knowing him sounded counterintuitive to the information he was receiving now. The person who he knew seemed incapable of being involved in this sort of thing. He decided it would be best if he didn't dwell on the circumstances.

Vegeta would have preferred to deal with everything swiftly and saw cremation as the perfect solution, but this hadn't sat well with Bulma. She thought it was better that his body remained intact just in case. Just in case for what?—Vegeta had thought at the time. There was no way now to bring someone back from Other World. Still there was always a sliver of a chance and Bulma didn't want to be responsible for ruining whatever chance that might be. Vegeta wasn't holding his breath and going to Dende for help seemed like a lost cause. It was probably out of his power anyway. But more than Bulma's concerns, Quint also expressed a need to do things properly.

Prior to Malachi's death they'd had no interaction with Quint until he came knocking on their door one day utterly distraught over the news. Bulma had taken the time to contact him deciding that it was only right to do so. Quint seemed so concerned that it was a complete mystery to Vegeta why Malachi had never once felt the need to introduce him properly to them. There was some piece of the puzzle that he was missing. He couldn't deny, however, that Quint was quite helpful in dealing with all the business and details that came of someone passing. He knew a lot of useful information that they would not have known otherwise—people who really could keep matters secret from the prying eyes of the public and other details that needed to be ironed out to stop others from noticing things. It helped, Quint had told them, that Malachi tended to be of a reclusive nature. Not very many people were in direct contact with the entertainer. Quint knew specifically who's palms needed to be greased and gave them direction on what should be done about the funeral—he at least, had something very specific in mind, in accordance to his own traditions. Since he was his father, it was probably best to just let him have his way. Despite never seeing him until now, he certainly made it seem as if he had this deep connection with Malachi, knew him from a very young age, and he constantly reminded them of this fact including how heartbroken he was that Malachi should pass so young—Vegeta couldn't determine how genuine the man was.

Quint was Malachi's only family outside of them. Aside from him, Vegeta would know everyone there. It would be like a reunion of old acquaintances, but it was far more somber than a spur of the moment get-together. It all felt very odd. He wasn't used to this sort of affair. People died quickly in battle or on foreign planets that were not their home. It reminded him of how different life had generally become for him. Before living for such a long time on Earth, he had not called any placed his home and he had done none of the activities associated with living somewhere permanent and growing roots. Death would always be a part of that. He was not so naïve as to be surprised by it, but he was not at all used to this in particular. He'd never buried his own family—they had simply been destroyed along with many others in his life—and he had thought nothing more of it. Everyone which he had known in the past as a passing acquaintance were all likely dead and this fact had never bothered him. This was different with Malachi—this long and drawn out affair. This was what peace entailed. Now there was time for things that were often neglected.

Vegeta was woefully unprepared to see Malachi lying in a casket surrounded by the soft, silky material of the inside. It was unimaginable. It was unnatural. He wasn't supposed to be there. His hair had been fixed, clothes had been changed, someone else had "prepared" his body for this occasion. He found himself staring in wonderment. Having passed almost a week ago, he looked unblemished. All this which was happening around him was for his sake yet he had no say in the matter. He would never have an opinion about any of it. Despite knowing what afterlife felt like, looking down at his unmoving body left him with a very empty feeling.

Too long had they lived with the luxury of having the option to bring someone back from death. There was always someone fight. Earth had so often been in peril that any death that occurred would be in battle, not of old age or sickness both of which would have been deaths that no one would have been able to come back from. He had never thought along those lines or he had and he decided to leave it in the back of his mind. That was the trouble with humans—they were so weak and vulnerable. He knew that Malachi's fate was not uncommon among humans. That fact terrified him when he thought of Bulma and her vulnerabilities. He'd realized this early on and accommodated her accordingly as best he could. He knew what she could and couldn't handle physically and made sure not to overstep his boundaries in those regards—it was something that had come natural to him and to this day, he kept a vigilant eye on her overall health.

It could have been Bulma instead of Malachi lying in that casket. For a brief second, his traitorous mind pictured her there and he stepped back—almost stumbled back—despite himself. "Damn it," he said quickly under his breath. He thought of how Malachi had gotten to this point, once so strong and tenacious. Slowly his health had declined. He wasn't in perfect health to begin with, but Bra sure hadn't helped things. He could never blame Bra for his demise—he didn't have it in him to do that—but perhaps she'd moved things along. She hadn't done it purposely; she was innocent at least in intent.

There was nothing to distract him from what was presently in front of him. He wasn't in the throes of battle or forced to focus on his own survival. No, his mind could dwell and ponder on Malachi's state of being. He was simply too young for all of this. He tried to tear his eyes away, but morbidity stayed his gaze as he began to think about the day they first met and Malachi's continued presence in his life. This was the same guy who claimed he could one day defeat him battle—now that day would never come. Vegeta doubted there'd be anyone else who possessed such audacity. It was silly yet it had been one of the many things that had defined him. A very cold feeling began to creep into his mind—the finality of it all, his goals left unfulfilled, his children who he would never see grow up.

"You okay?" Vegeta heard Bulma's voice ask beside him.

He turned to her grateful that she'd interrupted his train of thought. "Yeah. Fine," Vegeta lied to her. It wasn't necessary. He knew she could see right through it.

"You've been standing here for a while." She leaned in a little closer. "Others want a chance to see him as well," she said in a quieter voice.

Vegeta looked up and noticed that others had arrived—pretty much all the people who'd been invited to Bulma's karaoke party in celebration of Malachi's entry into the tournament except this time Tien had showed up as well as Chiaotzu and Launch. He hadn't realized how much time had already passed since the wake had begun. He felt all their eyes on him. Deciding it was better to just follow Bulma's suggestion, he moved elsewhere in the house. All of this was occurring on Quint's sizable property inside of the main house. He'd never been here before besides now, but apparently, this was where Malachi had spent a good part of his childhood.

The place didn't strike Vegeta as a family home. Awards lined the walls and everything was pristine and in place. Perhaps he'd done up the house in preparation for this event. Brown was a prominent color in the place—polished wooden floors, wood walls and furnishings. It matched with the polished dark wooden casket which now sat elevated in the central room.

Vegeta had seen Quint only a few times that day—he hardly paid him any mind being so caught up in his own thoughts. But he'd done what he'd set out to do that day and that was the last time he wanted to see Malachi's unmoving form—he'd had his fill. Perhaps it was worth some effort seeking out the man who claimed to have known Malachi so well. Vegeta could claim the same thing yet he never felt comfortable saying that aloud. He wasn't sure if he was simply looking too far into things, but he had a feeling that Malachi might have viewed him as some sort of surrogate father. Malachi had all but called him that. Bulma had looked through Malachi's contacts on his phone as a matter of necessity, but she'd mentioned to him that he'd stored his number not under his name but as "Father" and Bulma's number under "Mother". It pretty much confirmed his suspicions. It had never been made official according to human traditions. He and Bra had never managed to get married. He was sure that was something that Bra would lament, but such ceremonies held little meaning to him.

He'd wandered over to the room which held the food. Little wonder that he would wound up here. Already, he could tell that Quint had managed to acquire quite the spread. He spied Bunny looking at the selection with a critical eye. Her arms were crossed and she was shaking her head slowly. Clearly, she was upset. Her eyes met his for a brief moment.

"You can practically taste the plastic wrapper on these," Bunny said commenting on the pastries. "He should have just let _me_ cater—it would have given me something to do."

"Have you seen him?" Vegeta asked as he stepped into the room.

"No, but I do look forward to finally meeting him in person. I have a promise I want to keep," she replied. "Too bad Malachi won't be here to see," she finished quietly.

Vegeta wasn't sure what she was referring to, but he left it at that. He wondered if he should even try anything with Bunny glowering over it all.

"This is supposed to be in honor of Malachi and _this_ is all he could manage? If Quint knows him so well, then he should know that Malachi would have appreciated a lot of thought put into the food—he wouldn't turn away anything even if it was burnt, but he certainly would have appreciated just a little more concern."

Vegeta doubted there was anything he could have said to make her feel any better. "I don't think he meant anything by it," he said not quite understanding her displeasure.

"Try some of it," Bunny said. "See what you think."

While it was true that Vegeta would eat most anything, his taste buds were in fact quite discerning and Bunny on many occasions would ask him to taste one thing or another and give his honest opinion. There were mini sausage links which he tried because it was closest and didn't require a plate. Upon tasting, he realized it certainly wasn't one of the best ones he'd ever eaten. There was something very artificial about it. He doubted he was eating actual meat.

"See? Plastic. The man could hardly bear to part with too much money even for an occasion like this for someone he claims to have loved so unconditionally."

"Clearly, he wasn't too concerned about the food. He probably had other things on his mind."

"Clearly," Bunny agreed, repeating a word he'd just used. "I don't believe he's all that upset about any of this."

"I've met him a few times," Vegeta began.

"And what did you think of him?"

"On those brief occasions, it was usually for the purposes of business, but when we spoke on things more personal, it was hard to tell how genuine he was being about his relationship with Malachi: two parts laying it on thick, one part truth."

"I'd say that sounds about right. Though—"

Bunny stopped as she looked up and saw Quint come strolling through the entry way of the room as if they'd managed to conjure him up out of nowhere. Vegeta noticed her eyes narrowing which was something Vegeta had never seen her do before.

"You must be Quint," she said with a pleasant smile despite what Vegeta saw as obvious disdain.

He was missing something. Was the food really that terrible? All at once, Bunny made it across the room towards him in record time and then whipped out her hand and slapped him once across the face, then twice, then thrice. Had Vegeta not stepped in to stop her, he had no doubt that she would have continued. It was almost comical looking for the large man who just so happened to be same height as Bunny to be cowering in fear from the comparatively petit woman. Vegeta had grabbed her by the waist and pulled her back—the least likely place for her to get hurt should she fight against him.

"What the hell, woman," Quint shouted.

"That was for Malachi," Bunny said back with a hard edge to her tone. She was not yelling, but it was equally as effective.

When Vegeta felt that she was no longer fighting against him, he let her go.

"What are you talking about?" Quint asked with a thoroughly confused expression as if it was the most off the wall thing that could have come out of her mouth.

"Malachi told me everything about you," Bunny replied, her voice back to normal though with a note of disdain. "How you used to physically abuse him as a child. What kind of parent would do that to someone so vulnerable?"

Quint shook his head and then snorted at this. "He told you _that_ sop story, huh? Always slanted in his favor, always trying to make me look bad. Well, I guarantee he didn't tell you the full story."

"He was just a child," Bunny reiterated, "There isn't a full story out there that can justify what you did."

"You _would_ think that—you have no idea what I had to go through with that child and then at the end of the day, he could give two shits about me even after all I did for him."

Vegeta who'd been watching the exchange silently finally spoke up. "Explain yourself then—in full detail." It was likely not worth his time hearing, but he was interested enough and he sensed that Quint truly did think he was the "good" person in this scenario.

Quint looked at him and then shook his head slowly with a grin that only served to irritate Vegeta further. "It's a long story."

"I have nothing better to do," Vegeta said back, "And this weird viewing party of yours is supposed to drag on for hours."

"I'll listen," she said simply, "As much as I can stomach."

Quint's eyes passed from Bunny to Vegeta and then he sighed. "Fine then. Let's all sit down."

In his waddling gait, Quint led them to chairs that sat off to the side of the room. Though Bunny chose to sit down, Vegeta decided to simply stand and he did so with his arms crossed, a stance that he naturally moved into. He wasn't intending to intimidate the man, but in hindsight he realized that he probably was.

Quint wore a gray flat cap and a matching suit with thick yarn-like thread. The suit jacket was unbuttoned and Vegeta could see the silky royal blue dress shirt within. A light shadow over his eyes from his cap darkened his already dark eyes. His was a face that suggested that he was never happy or satisfied with anything and his eyes seemed capable of bearing holes into people without much trouble.

"That boy, let me tell ya, I saw him one day at a talent show scouting for some fresh new talent to add to the label and he outshined everyone in personality. He just didn't care—he wasn't scared of the audience like you would expect from most kids his age. It was just all _him_ out there and that's what you need, you know, if you want to do anything in the industry. More than technique, more than ability, you need personality, something that makes you different from everyone else—branding. Everyone knew who Malachi was at least locally—he frequented those kinds of venues—and he was known for being a bit, well, off the wall.

"He was uncouth, if you will. Doing songs that even most adults wouldn't attempt at talent shows. Artists like James Brown. The quality of his voice ranged from serviceable to quite good. It was something I could work with. There was something there for me to mold. So I ended up adopting him despite what the people at the adoption center said. They all but told me not to do it, that Malachi wasn't a very manageable child and not a good fit for someone who's not used to children. But I did it anyway after paying a large sum of money."

"Out of the kindness of your heart," Bunny said. It was likely that she was being sarcastic, but her tone didn't indicate as much.

Quint looked at her. "Honey, I did what I had to. I was at my wit's end looking for a new act. It sucks away so much of your time trying to find that diamond in the rough. You say you're looking for someone and everyone and their Mom think they have it, but it's all dead ends and frustrations.

"The boy had terrible hygiene. He smelled like old piss and vomit. He wore nasty ass clothes and had little belongings besides one extra pair of underwear. The boy was a mess from the very beginning."

"You act like he'd been living in paradise," Bunny said, "That was all he was probably afforded."

"Oh no, some of that was just him not caring. Sure, he didn't live in the most richly of places, but the center was sanitary from what I can tell. They had running water, decent food, and clothes that were regularly donated to them. It _had_ to be like that or the place wouldn't be running—it's government sanctioned," Quint explained.

"And yet he spoke of never having enough food and crying babies everywhere," Vegeta said thinking back on the time Malachi had recounted his time at the orphanage.

"An exaggeration obviously," Quint said dismissively.

"It's not as if you were really there to pay attention to things like that," Bunny said, "You have no idea whether there was or wasn't a shortage of food. Even if there was, I doubt they'd make those things public to any passersby. If it's true it was government sanctioned, then they would have even more reasons to hide things."

"And here I thought the government protected the people and their interests," Quint said sardonically.

"In a perfect world perhaps. You and me both know that certain things fall through the cracks. A place full of forgotten children?—it's not much of a stretch that it wasn't being monitored as much as it should."

"See, you're already making excuses for him. I haven't even gotten to the good part," Quint said back.

"Then get on with your story," Vegeta said without hiding his growing irritation.

"Alright," Quint said as he readjusted himself in the seat. "Like a said, the boy was a mess when I brought him home. First thing I did was tell him to shower and bathe at least three times and I'd bought him some new clothes to wear. He looked nice when he was cleaned up somewhat—less like some mangy animal."

Bunny clearly didn't like the comparison as her lips pursed for just a moment.

"I call it like I see it," Quint said noticing her expression. "There was something, how should I say it, wrong with him. Something mentally not right about him. He had this sketch book—the only other thing extracurricular in his possession—and he liked to draw things in it. Curious one day when I was trying to make some sort of small talk with the boy, I asked if I could see it. Inside were things that one might only find in their nightmares. Most of the pages depicted death or something dying or something unnecessarily violent—he certainly had a fondness for the color red. A little boy drawing stuff like that," Quint said shaking his head.

"A robust fighting spirit," Vegeta commented, "In a civilized society in which that's frowned upon."

Bunny had glanced over at him at this.

"Is that what you call it?" Quint asked with a laugh. "How 'bout a psychopath in the making. He was just one mental breakdown away from being a complete criminal. It was just sadistic what I saw in that thing, couldn't even flip through the whole thing. I came home one day and he'd stolen one of my kitchen knives. I went up to his room and found all those stuffed animals I'd gotten for him cus he said wanted some completely mutilated, cotton everywhere. The room had been junked. I found him outside stabbing the shit out of a squirrel—an innocent little squirrel. A freaking live squirrel with blood dripping out of it. What the hell? Before that, he kept peeing all over the house because he thought it was funny. I would get upset and he wouldn't take me seriously. When I caught him, all he would do is smile like it was all some kind of sick, twisted joke."

"Maybe he didn't know any better," Bunny said putting one hand to her cheek.

"Oh he knew better. That's why he thought it was funny," Quint replied, "He was Mr. Contrary. Tell him to do one thing and he'd do the complete opposite and that was the whole joke. It was annoying and now he'd gone too far."

"All that pent-up aggression," Vegeta said before Quint could continue, "And nowhere to release it."

Quint looked at him as if he was insane—Vegeta realized that this probably wasn't the first time someone thought that of him. "It was a damn animal killed in cold blood. The first time he did that, I sent him to his room and I locked the door from the outside. I left him there for three days straight. Told him I'd let him out to use the bathroom, but he never told me he had to go and I knew he'd peed somewhere in there. That was him trying to defy me again. So I let him stay longer. Then I let him out 'cus I needed him to keep going to those singing lessons and what not."

Bunny was shaking her head, "He probably needed attention from professionals and all you do is lock him in a room—that must have been so traumatizing."

"He killed a damn squirrel," Quint argued back, "Being in a room for a while wouldn't do anything to a kid like that."

"A young developing mind punished as if he were an adult of a stable mind. You're supposed to be guiding him not locking him away."

"Oh get off it, lady, it's already been done. I couldn't send him to psychiatrist. I had literally put all my eggs in one basket and if Malachi didn't pan out then I would be ruined financially. That stuff would have to wait until I could at least get him his first single and it did well enough. That day couldn't come soon enough."

"I'm sure things only got worse," Vegeta said knowingly.

"It did. He killed more squirrels and even a rabbit—a poor little rabbit. He'd managed to catch a raccoon and a possum, all mutilated and each one I punished him and I left him in that room for longer and longer. I could tell when he'd had enough each time 'cus he'd claw at the door with all this 'Please, Dad, I'm sorry, I'm really really sorry' and carrying on like that."—Quint had used a mocking child voice to emulate Malachi speaking—"He only called me Dad when he was desperate, otherwise, I'm just Quint to him. One day I just lost it and beat the shit out of that boy. He'd ruined _the_ most of expensive piano that I owned by peeing all over it and cutting the tuning strings and just trashing it with whatever he could find on hand. _Then_ he left a rotting animal carcass in my room to stink up the whole place. I was so _done_ with him. I didn't hurt him enough to send him to the hospital, but I definitely left some bruises and made sure to make him cry. Maybe I didn't just beat him once, but a couple more times for the all the crap he was putting me through."

"Then you locked him in that room again," Vegeta said.

"You're catching on. I did, but I did something far worse. I thought of it at the last minute too. I took out that radio of his and boy did I hit the nail on the head. I'd gotten him a new one that played music in high quality sound and I knew he had enjoyed. When I took it away, he was fighting me tooth and nail for it, but it's a good thing he wasn't in tip top shape 'cus I was eventually able to get it and leave that filthy pigsty of a room. That was the thing that did it. He couldn't entertain himself anymore, it was just him in that room by himself. Hopefully, he was having a nice long conversation with himself about how shitty he'd been being. He pleaded and pleaded to get out of that room even apologized for everything—like he always does—but it came a lot sooner than before just on the second day of isolation. Then one day it was all silent. Now keep in mind, guys, I did give him water every two days, alright. I wasn't trying to kill him—just wanted to shake him up a bit."

"Oh, no, just starve him to death instead," Bunny said unimpressed.

Quint shook his head. "I decided to check on him 'cus usually he'd be making some kind of movement in there. Found him in his dirty little bed curled up, shivering in a ball and he was just crying. For the first time, I did feel a bit guilty, alright. I didn't think the kid _knew_ how to cry. He was just always fighting me every step of the way. Didn't think he had it in him." Quint shook his head slowly. "He had a fever so I took him and cleaned him up—the whole time I got no protests from him, no indication that he didn't like someone else cleaning him. I gave him some medicine and it took him a few days to recover. I nursed him back to health. That's when things changed. It just seemed like he woke up on the _right_ side of the bed this time. Thing is, he was hardly recognizable from the boy I'd had to deal with for over a month now. Suddenly, he was nice, courteous, and did everything I said without fuss. I was a little scared that I'd lost that personality of his, but when I gave him a mic, it was all there still intact."

"You must have broken his spirits," Vegeta said thoughtfully, "And he did what he had to for survival's sake. I doubt he liked you anymore than he had before."

Quint frowned at him. "I made him civilized. I made him listen to me. But, it had come at a cost, one that I wasn't entirely upset about. I ask what made him finally act right and he'd just look at me with a puzzled expression like it had always been this way, going this smoothly. He'd forgotten all of that. He had no memory of it ever happening and certain memories were completely changed in his mind. It was odd. I didn't push the issue not until I finally got him working and he put out his very first album. It made decent waves in the industry, it was a good start, indicative of a long and thriving career. There was still room to improve and little Malachi had all the enthusiasm in the world to continue it. Now don't get me wrong, I did send him to a therapist when the time was right—"

"Don't you just mean when it was convenient for you?" Bunny interrupted him.

"It was mutual convenience," Quint said smoothly, "I was the one who made him go by the way—he didn't think he needed to."

"Now you're considering the opinion of a child as if it's factual," Bunny replied.

"The boy was quite intuitive for his age. He was really in tuned with people's emotions. Even if he didn't always understand the meaning of a song, he knew the emotion behind it. You'd think a person like that would know if something was wrong with them. I know, I know, he was just a child, but he seemed to have understanding beyond his age. Anyways, when I sent him to the therapist, at first I was told that there didn't seem to be anything wrong. Their initial session had positive results, but as a precaution the doctor sent him to a psychiatrist so his brain could be scanned. Mind you, I didn't like all this. Last thing I wanted was for them to put him on some kind of mind-altering drugs that could mess with his creativity or something irreplaceable. After that, they diagnosed him with dissociative amnesia. They told me," he said clearing his throat, "that it's a memory disorder characterized by sudden retrograde episodic memory loss and in his case because they couldn't find any physical damage that it was likely caused by something emotionally traumatic or stressful. A mouthful, I know."

"That sounds awful," Bunny said. "You did that to him and you still think you're the victim in this scenario."

"He was asking for it. The boy was hardheaded and he could hardly be talked to. Now, he could. I do feel a bit guilty, but there was nothing else I could—

"So he received this diagnosis. What happened next? Did he ever recover?" Vegeta said cutting across him

"No," Quint said as he shook his head. "As far as I know, he never did, but then he stopped talking to me about stuff like that not too long after. I was surprised they didn't prescribe any medication, but the doctor said that there weren't any sort of medicine or psychological technique that could reliably 'recover' memories without introducing something completely fabricated—they either returned spontaneously after some trigger or it didn't at all. In Malachi's case, because he didn't recognize his own amnesia, it was likely that his mind had already filled in the blanks with something else and that it was probably impossible to recover what simply wasn't there anymore. I was just mystified. Who just forgets things like that and then come up with entirely different stories and believe it like it's fact? Malachi and I got into far too many arguments about it, but you can't tell him anything. He always thinks he's right even when he isn't. So what he told you, Bunny, was some twisted version of reality. _I_ know what I'm talking about. He'll have you believe I was unnecessarily beating down some dutiful child out of pure malice, but he was really a demon spawn who constantly destroyed things in my house and tried my patience. You think, Malachi, who was in fact a perfectionist who did a pretty good job of beating his own self up over performances that were flawless, needed _me_ to reinforce things? He's always had unreliable memory. That's how all this started."

Quint had finished as he sat up a little straighter in his seat and both Bunny and Vegeta took a moment to digest what they'd just heard. Bunny broke the silence first.

"This wasn't something he told everyone," she said quietly. "And he doesn't seem like the type to give out personal information like that."

"Given the chance," Quint began.

"No," Bunny said shaking his head.

"He's said things in interviews before even though I told him specifically not to answer those type of questions. My name _has_ been dragged through the mud a bit, but it was never a big deal, luckily enough. A footnote at best."

Vegeta was already disinterested in anything further Quint had to say. What he'd heard that day explained everything that had ever bothered him about Malachi. Those moments when he would catch a glint of something sinister or his senses telling him that there was more there than what he appeared to be were all things that were no longer strange anomalies. Malachi would seem so polite, dainty even in his mannerisms, but how much of that was simply practiced rather than an accurate representation of his personality? And if he really did have memory lapses, how much of that was deliberate or what he considered actuality? Did he even fully understand himself? It all sounded quite tiring to think about, too many questions without readily available answers.

Puzzling questions aside, Vegeta felt that he knew Malachi: a lone, pugnacious boy who was forced to conform to a civilized world. He wondered how jarring it must have been like for him being born into a society that frowned upon everything he was. It made sense to him how he had taken so well to his training, how he seemed to love combat, and didn't care much about the consequences. Vegeta often wondered if it was his heritage which made him the way he was, shielded by his natural strength and prowess in battle. While before he would have attributed it all to his race, he realized that he was hardly raised in the traditional Saiyan society. He remembered so little of it now that it was frustrating. He remembered Frieza like it was yesterday. _That_ was his childhood. _That_ was what he reminisced on and had shaped him in profound ways. To come upon someone such as Malachi served to reevaluate himself. Even a weakling human could throw caution to the wind and even become fearless in the face of danger without the same sort of reassurances that he had had as a Saiyan. The one thing which he had to teach his son as one of the first lessons of combat was that fear was a hindrance. It was far easier said than done and usually took a few years to control those kinds of emotions. Knowing that one might be attacked head-on and that it _will_ hurt was a hurdle for most everyone. Yet that had never been something he had to teach Malachi. In fact, Malachi vowed to defeat him despite the odds. He was supposed to be afraid and yet he wasn't.

Bra had arrived already and had been in the house for a while now—he supposed it would be best to check in on her. Vegeta departed from Bunny and Quint's company and made his way to his daughter. She wasn't in the room where Malachi rested. Vegeta found her sitting down on a couch in the adjourning room. Her eyes were already red rimmed, but dry at least. She must have been crying before.

"I don't want to be here anymore," Bra told him outright when he was close enough. "I've seen him and it's only made it worse—now I can have another image stuck in my head. How long is he going to draw this out? When are we going to lay him to rest?"

"Tomorrow," Vegeta said, "So Quint told everyone. There's a ceremony involved."

Bra frowned at this and then looked away. "I wonder if Malachi would even care about that sort of thing. He always told me he wasn't afraid of dying, but he never went into much detail about what he wanted to happen afterwards." She stood up and he stepped back a little to give her space. "See you back at the house."

"Want me to take—"

"No, I can manage flying back on my own. But thank you anyway," Bra said.

Bra left promptly as if in a hurry and Vegeta supposed he couldn't blame her. Seeing him like that—he could only imagine what that was really doing to her. Bra had grown quite close to Malachi, closer than he'd ever seen her get to anyone else. She must have been in untold amounts of pain; her constant tears were evidence enough. There wasn't a day that had gone by without him hearing or sensing her tears. It was difficult seeing her like this, but it was made even worse when he knew there was no real way to comfort her. Bulma was far better at that sort of thing and even she couldn't do much. All Vegeta could hope for was that with time the pain would dull to a certain extent, but he doubted that it would ever fully go away.

He sensed her moving quickly back to the house. It wasn't until she arrived safely that he could focus a bit more on the things happening around him which wasn't much. It was a somber affair. Vegeta spoke to a few more people all of which expressed their condolences and did little more than annoy him. Vegeta doubted there was anything anyone could say that _wouldn't_ annoy him. He was glad when the wake came to a close some time in the early evening hours.

As was his habit these days, he went to make sure Bra was doing alright. Of course, she rarely was, but he hoped his presence might be doing some good. She never seemed upset that he was concerned and checking in on her far more often than what was normal and this encouraged him to continue to do this.

That evening, he found her in her bedroom though it felt odd to call it just "her" bedroom considering it had been the room she shared with Malachi for some time and evidence of his presence was everywhere, even his scent—Bra had not seen fit to wash the sheets. She was sitting cross-legged forlornly on the bed in the center. She seemed to be doing nothing more than staring at the wall in front of her. She was likely deep in thought. He could probably guess what or more specifically who was on her mind. Unexpectedly, she looked up at him as he stepped into the room.

Solemn eyes gazed at him with a distant expression. "I've been debating with myself whether I should do this or not," she began slowly.

"And what is that?" Vegeta asked though a bit anxious about where this conversation might lead.

"I just spent the last hour compiling all his music videos and some live performances, then another I spent compiling all the footage I could find when he was touring. I don't know if it would be a good idea to watch them or not. It would probably just make things worse."

"You went through all that trouble. Might as well reap the fruits of your labor."

"I don't know if I could do it alone."

Vegeta knew what he was being asked. For Bra, there was hardly anything he wouldn't do for her. He joined her on the bed and she promptly turned on the flat screen TV on the wall in front of them. After pulling up the playlist on her phone, she displayed it easily on the screen in all it's high-definition glory. She really had compiled all his music videos starting from when he was a child. Vegeta had never seen them before and this was likely the only reason he would watch them.

At the very least, it wouldn't be an unpleasant experience. Knowing what he now knew from Quint, he watched Malachi a bit more critically, anything to corroborate what he'd been told. Midway through the third video, Vegeta realized that he would find nothing. When he was performing, there was a persona he would step into and he became almost unrecognizable from the person that he knew yet he felt as if _this_ was Malachi as well. The way the music seemed to flow through him, the energy he showed through his voice and movements, the pure delight he seemed to have about the whole thing, could not be faked. That energy was infectious and as he glanced over at Bra now and then whose eyes were transfixed on the screen, he could tell that for now she was in a good mood. For now, she could forget about everything and watch Malachi at his happiest. Music defined him, it saved him from poverty and showed him a bigger, brighter, glitzier world and there he would meet the person who would make him whole.

Vegeta sat through quite a few of his videos before Bra eventually nodded off much to his surprise. There were hours of music videos and Vegeta had resigned himself to watching them all, but he was relieved when she fell asleep. She'd made herself comfortable on the bed and he'd spoken sparingly to her as she relayed to him all the information she knew about each music video they watched, what she liked about it, and just how often she'd watched it in the past when she was much younger. She'd been restless for days and this was the only thing, it seemed, that could lull her into much needed sleep. He paused the video. It was likely she'd like to resume at a later time in the near future.

Tomorrow would be the funeral and Vegeta was not looking forward to it. He stood up and tucked in his only daughter as gently as possible so as not to wake her and made his way to the bedroom he shared with Bulma. As he approached his room, however, he decided at the last minute that he should look in on Jensen.

The poor boy had become quiet and withdrawn. Bulma watched him like a hawk understandably worried about how he was taking things. He certainly needed someone to talk to, it seemed Bulma was that person. When Vegeta had seen him at the wake, Jensen seemed a bit underweight and malnourished. His coloring was off and his energy felt weak. None of it was a good sign. Vegeta had tried to speak to him as well, but it was just like talking to a brick wall. He had far less effect on Jensen than he had on Bra.

Jensen seemed on the verge of falling asleep when he looked into the room after opening the door and letting a bit of the hallway light seep in—this might have been the thing that awakened him since Vegeta had tried his hardest to remain undetected.

"Hold on," came the small voice of Jensen from under the covers, "There's something I want to give you. Malachi would have wanted you to have it. He wrote it for you anyway." Jensen sat up in bed and Vegeta walked over.

"What is it?" Vegeta asked.

"I'm not entirely sure, but I think it's supposed to be about the Instant Transmission. I think he finished it too."

Jensen handed him a thumb drive and Vegeta accepted it from him.

"Are you ready for tomorrow?" Vegeta asked as Jensen crawled back under the comforters.

"No," Jensen said quietly.

"You won't have to go through it alone. Everyone else will be there."

"Yeah," Jensen said with a sigh.

"It may not seem like it now, but it won't always be like this."

Jensen didn't respond to this, though Vegeta knew he was still awake. Vegeta left it at that as he moved to the entrance of the room and slowly closed the door. Jensen apparently liked it when the door was closed completely so that he could be in total darkness. Instead of going off to bed as he had originally planned, he made a beeline to the nearest desktop computer and inserted the thumb drive. He knew if he hadn't, his curiosity would have kept him up all night. When he opened the lone document file on the drive, he saw that there were over a hundred pages to it. What could this possibly entail?

Vegeta read the very first paragraph slowly. He could hear Malachi's voice in his mind as if he was speaking directly to him. Written in Malachi's voice, there was no doubt that he had written this. There were already some minor grammatical errors, but clearly, he hadn't had the time to really edit it all. This must have been the thing that he'd seen him working on so diligently. This went all the way back to the time he'd first started training him, both admonishing and praising in his first impressions of the training.

Vegeta sat back in his chair finding it difficult to continue reading. He found himself becoming a bit too emotional. He wished that Malachi's fate had been different. He wished that Kakarot was still around. He wished that the world wasn't slowly closing in around him and that humans weren't so weak and short-lived. Death had always been a part of his life, but since living so peacefully on Earth, it had become an even harder pill to swallow. There was nothing to distract him from his despondency and this document he looked at made it no easier. He'd have to return to it later when his mood improved. Likely not tomorrow, but later.

* * *

 **The funeral was a somber affair even more so than the wake.** Quite a few of the attendees shed tears, he could hear the constant sniffling. All of it did nothing for his mood. Bra who sat beside him had not lasted ten minutes before the tears took her and she was shaking all over. He'd pulled her close to him, but he doubted that helped much. She remained that way for the rest of the proceedings and what had occurred had all been a blur. He wasn't even paying attention. Instead, he found himself staring at that well-polished casket which held the silent and still Malachi. It was still open and Vegeta could see him perfectly. His eyes started burning for some reason and his mind could not muster another coherent thought.

A man dressed in a black suit, the pastor, came up to say a few words. Vegeta couldn't recall if Malachi had even been religious in that way, but Quint had insisted. Quint stood up as well and said a few words all of which felt hollow to Vegeta at this point. The man seemed like he did care about Malachi, but not in a way that was entirely genuine. He asked if there was anyone else who wanted to say anything. For a moment, Vegeta thought about it, but realized he'd never done a thing like that before and his mind was too numb to come up with anything worthwhile. There were more sniffles from the one's sitting down behind him. Bulma volunteered herself and this quickly drew his attention. She hadn't mentioned that she intended to do such a thing. The room quieted as she stood up. There was a podium but she decided not to stand behind it.

Her eyes swept over the room and Vegeta couldn't sense any sort of nervousness from her. She was surprisingly levelheaded despite the circumstances. He could see the despondency, however, in her eyes though she had not physically cried. She'd been able to keep her mind occupied with business and innumerable small details that had all brought them to this point, sitting here on a sunny afternoon.

"Who would have thought," Bulma began with a subtle grin, "All of us here at a funeral. It's so far removed from our daily lives that it seems unreal. There's always been a way around it, hasn't there? Death was more like a vacation—just a little trip and then we'd be back here again. Sure, we all knew that it wasn't the norm, but we all just got used to it. And Malachi...he never knew those things, he was never in that mindset and yet it felt like he was one of us. It would always feel like this, like it was too soon, for anyone really, but for Malachi I think it really was. I don't know," she said shaking her head, "I don't know what else to say." Her eyes had started to become moist as she finished her speech here and then placed it back on the podium.

The pastor stood up again to say a few more words before the funeral came to a close. Many of them were utterly unprepared for a funeral and some had no idea what should happen at one. Though Bulma was the only one who actually spoke, the others who had attended including Launch, Tien, Yamcha, Krillen, and 18 each at some point approached Vegeta and Bra and said a few words to them about Malachi.

Among those who Vegeta noticed had red rimmed eyes from crying were, of course, Pan and Marron. Marron wasn't usually the one to become so emotional, but finally at the funeral she had broken and her boyfriend had to help her to even walk. But also, he noticed Launch, the black haired one, sniffling away—it seemed like Tien and her had come there as a couple much to Vegeta's surprise. Clearly, he had missed something, but he made no comment on this to them.

Yamcha was a bit overly dramatic in Vegeta's opinion, but then perhaps he didn't know any better. Vegeta still didn't want to do all that in front of everyone. Old habits die hard and it had been drilled into his head over and over again that crying made one look weak. Puar was there comforting Yamcha. He claimed to have such a close relationship with Malachi, at least that was what he could decipher from Yamcha's blubbering. Vegeta felt a few pangs of jealousy the way Yamcha was framing their relationship—he didn't entirely understand why; it wasn't a contest of who knew Malachi better. It didn't matter, did it? Besides, if it was a contest, that award would go to Jensen no question.

Vegeta didn't expect Krillen to be so emotional either, but perhaps it had to do with him being human maybe he felt some connection. His wife adored his music as well and likely she had played his music many times in the past. Though it was still odd considering that they collectively had decided at some point that it was better to kill him outright instead of trying to figure out some other way to eliminate Laputa. Or maybe that made things worse. Vegeta knew first hand that guilt was a difficult thing to wrestle with.

Jensen was in such bad shape that Bulma had simply begun to carry him in her arms—he was still yet light enough for her to manage it. Bunny had the two smallest ones in her care and they were remarkably on their good behavior today; he didn't hear even the smallest squeal from them. Maybe they sensed the somber mood around them. Machi wasn't nearly as happy as she seemed so apt to be. Bunny herself was crying into Dr. Brief's shoulder after not being able to hold it in for very long.

Auden and Astor had showed up as well though they'd been missing from the wake yesterday not that Vegeta blamed them—he'd found the entire affair unnecessary. They sat in the back almost completely removed from everyone else and Astor was quite teary eyed perhaps even as badly as Jensen. Bulma told him as his eyes sought out the two that Auden didn't do well with crowds. He always opted to avoid them altogether no matter how important the occasion—in short, it was a miracle that he had physically showed up. "Perhaps," Bulma said to him in a lowered voice, "He knows how it feels to lose someone very close better than anyone else here." Though Vegeta immediately caught onto the fact that he generally didn't outwardly emote to things, he could sense a sincere empathy from him. Auden only approached him and Bra when he wasn't surrounded by everyone else.

"I'm sorry that you have to go through this," Auden said at first looking at Vegeta, but then resting his eyes upon a teary-eyed Bra who looked up at him. "It's always too soon, isn't it? You can always think of other things you could have done together even after you've been through so much with that person." His eyes seemed knowing and Bra could hardly think of anything to say back to him. "And that thought always remains with you. Though with time it becomes manageable." He opened his suit jacket a little to take out a singular white rose which he handed to Bra.

She was mystified as she took it in her hand. "Wh-What's this for?" she asked. She'd not been handed a flower at any point of the funeral though there were some which decorated the polished casket.

"For love and hope; for a brighter future," he said, "I know it seems impossible to see at this point, but it won't always be."

Bra had glanced at Vegeta unsure of what to do with the flower or even what to say.

"It's been genetically modified as well," Auden said further, "Virtually impossible for it to wither and die—unless you're really trying. Let it always remind you of the light even when it becomes dark."

"Well…thank you," Bra finally said back.

"You're welcome," he replied before departing abruptly with Astor who gave her a small wave following after.

Bra who'd been crying since she arrived was momentarily brought out of her tears as something else now piqued her interest; the white rose. It had been so unexpectant that it caused her pause.

"Super durable?" Bra said out loud, "We'll see about that," she said with some mirth.

Bra was not a woman with a lot patience and tending to flowers was beyond her. Still, it was a kind gesture and Vegeta was grateful for anything which could stop his daughter from crying if only for a little while.

Majuub never approached them. He feigned stoicism as Vegeta noted the other desperately trying to hold back tears. He'd won that fight while others were around, but Vegeta doubted the man could hold it together when he was on his own. His emotions seemed to change constantly between sadness and anger. Sometimes his fists would be clenched and at other times his eyes would be exclusively trained on the ground. He'd sat in the back, but not as far back as Auden and watching him had become almost tiring. He seemed like a ball of pent up energy. Vegeta thought he might seek him out later perhaps tomorrow as it was never good to remain in that state for long periods of time.

Dende never made an appearance. Apparently Gohan wasn't enough of a draw. Gohan, himself, predictably sympathetic probably had the least knowledge about Malachi. He'd come with his wife and was friendly and cordial. It was a bit of a front, Vegeta decided. He'd been a person who was hard to reach for a very long time and kept himself mostly closed off from the others outside of his immediate family. He didn't train anymore and exclusively devoted himself to science particularly molecular biology or so Bulma had told him. When Gohan had approached him, he didn't say very much aside from "sorry for your loss". Vegeta supposed he hadn't expected much, but something about it felt a bit disappointing. He knew he'd have to change that eventually. They'd had a falling out after Gohan declared that he'd no longer be training no matter what the situation. Unlike many times before, he'd been true to his word and Vegeta hadn't heard a word from him the entire time Laputa was a threat and anytime Vegeta called him, he was sent to voicemail. It was yet another thing added to his list of things to do later. Goten, as well, was there. Vegeta understood that he sometimes hung out with Pan and Trunks to a greater extent. He'd probably come on their behalf along with his wife.

Though they'd hardly done anything that day, it turned out to be a draining day. After they watched as the casket was placed into the mausoleum, there was an impromptu gathering at the Briefs residence. Bulma had decided on it as she saw so many of them lingering and thought it was better to end the day being together with one another rather than everyone driving off to their own respective homes. Tien and Launch alone had driven for hours just to get here—though Tien didn't want to admit it, he was in no shape to do that drive again so soon.

Briefs residence was a huge place and could house untold amounts of people quite comfortably. Bulma took charge and ordered food from several different restaurants so that Bunny wouldn't have to cook—she wasn't in the mood for it and on further thought, perhaps cooking would have made things worse for her.

The day could have ended on a very low note, but by the end of it after time went by and Malachi was put to rest, the overall mood had improved as those who had known Malachi reminisced on the time spent. Stories were told from Yamcha and Tien alike about how incredibly ridiculous he could be. Bra had joined in as well and she had a treasure trove of Malachi ridiculousness. Jensen with Astor at his side recounted a few tales himself—which were one of the best in Vegeta's opinion because Malachi had been very candid with Jensen about everything. Bulma had a few interesting science-centric tales to share that only Gohan and Trunks really understood. As it turned out, most people had something to say and at some point it became a contest as to who had the most ridiculous. Tien recounted the time he'd taught him how to use the multi-form technique. Generally, he didn't teach such an advanced move to strangers, but Malachi had insisted that Vegeta could vouch for him and that he'd been training with Vegeta for years. Tien had taken him at face value—"No offense, but nobody especially not a human just knows your name offhand like that."—and he hadn't attended the party that Bulma had thrown for them before the tournament. In reality, it had been less than a year at that point, Vegeta had interjected. It was a small fib on Malachi's part, but that had been enough to convince Tien. Malachi had banked on Tien being utterly gullible and it had worked.

"I believed him," Tien said, "And he gave me no reason to think otherwise because he took to what I was telling him just like that. He was like an actual sponge. People say that about people who remember things a little better than most, but this was more than that. Two days was all it took. He kept asking me about ki, about how he should be using it in that case and that was his focus. Even on the first day he was almost there. On the second day, he could do it with ease, but not well enough for them to be useful in the midst of battle. I told him that it would take longer for that sort of thing, then he just looked at me and said that it wasn't necessary. Then I asked him, what's the point of learning a technique if you can't use it fully in a fight? He replied and I don't think I'll ever forget this: 'Look at me, look at you. We're both humans incredibly weak compared to a Saiyan on a bad day. Even if one knew how to use this technique to its utmost potential it would be useless if used as intended against someone so powerful. Tripling my power, quadrupling my power—that still rounds up to 0. But appearance is everything. Even salt looks like sugar.'"

"He really said that last part?" 18 asked amused.

"That's the part I remember the most," Tien said back.

"Oh, he's said something like that to me at least twice," Yamcha said, "Even when it didn't really make sense.

"Hold on," Trunks said cutting in, "Are you trying to tell me that he never knew how to really use that move even by the time he was fighting me at the tournament?"

"Yeah, it's called bluffing," Goten said with a laugh.

"You teach him how to do that?" Krillen said to Vegeta jokingly.

"He did it all of his own accord," Vegeta said who thought better of chewing the man out for asking such a stupid question.

It wasn't like it was something that could easily be taught anyway and it wasn't very reliable. Not only did one have to be incredibly convincing, but it didn't always work and things turned out badly when it didn't. Vegeta didn't really see it as something teachable just a bad habit of his—a tactic born out of desperation and there were many times in his life when that had been the case.

"You accepted defeat from him when you probably could have taken him down in one last hit," Vegeta said further to Krillen.

"Yeah, I knew it right after when he collapsed from exhaustion and I had all my energy back—but it was too late by then. He really had me going with that huge sphere of ki right behind him—it seemed like he was in complete control and I couldn't take much more. Since it wasn't a serious fight or at least _I_ wasn't taking it seriously, I didn't think it was worth the risk."

"Sometimes he was really bluffing but I think he was believing his own bluffs; that's why it seemed so convincing every time he did it," Pan said. "When I was training with him, I couldn't tell."

"I have something," Marron said a few beats after Pan. "One time I called him just because I was bored one day and at some point we got on the subject of some, well, financial hardship—don't look at me like that, Mom, I didn't want to alarm you at the time—and then Malachi just came right out of the blue and said he would just pay for everything. Usually, I don't say no to free money, but that was a bit much. I mean, he'd already bought me a car and I was super happy about that. Then this? I told him no, but the next time I checked on things, I realized that it had all been paid off: credit cards, mortgage, medical insurance, and late utility bills. And I was so furious about it that I chewed him out over the phone—I think he was still in the midst of recording his new album. You know me, I don't have much filter especially if I know you well enough and I accidentally…made him cry. It wasn't intentional, I swear, and I'd never done that to anyone before. No one ever takes me completely seriously. And this wasn't a little bit of crying, this was all out sobbing and he was apologizing and asking if we could still be friends and all that—it was, well it was something. I had to do a lot of reassuring and I wasn't really _that_ mad. My point being that you could probably just ask Malachi to get something for you or even just hint at needing something and he'll get it for you. That's just—I'm not used to that sort of thing. He's just very generous," Marron finished.

"I second that," Pan said, "One time, I contemplated going back to school for a different degree to Malachi over lunch, but I told him I didn't think I had the time or money for that sort of thing. Then he told me that I only had a time problem because he'd most certainly pay for my schooling—and I was so embarrassed when he said that so casually."

"I third that," 18 said. "At that party we had before the tournament, I mentioned again how much I loved his music, but that I only had two of his albums. A few days later, I received a complete physical collection of his music—all of it freshly autographed—on my doorstep as well as a brand new state-of-the-art mp3 player that I still use exclusively to this day. Needless to say, I was extremely excited about it and I've had his music on repeat for longer than I like to admit."

"Oh my gawd, Malachi is such a sugar daddy," Bra exclaimed with a mixture of outrage and amusement, "And he wonders why I get jealous all the time."

"Well," Tien said deciding to add to the conversation again. He wasn't usually so candid about this sort of thing, but the overall mood allowed it. "Aside from randomly gifting me a far too expensive car that I still happen to use, a flat screen smart TV arrived at my door sometime after he went back home. Maybe it was a gag gift. I didn't have much use for it, but Launch stopped me from giving it away outright."

"Those kinds of TVs are thousands upon thousands of dollars," Launch said further, "And it can go 3D and extreme HD as well. The sound quality—oh, I don't think I've heard anything so crisp and clear. It pretty much does everything. You'd be a fool to just give it away," she finished with a nod.

"Still doesn't help his case—he probably bought it for Launch not you," Bra said with a huff.

"It's a shame he never took my advice and started his own recording label," Terri said, she stood next to Trunks. Vegeta noticed the engagement ring on her finger. "I would have loved to see that."

"I'd work for him," Marron said at once, "So that's at least one person."

Pan snorted at this. "You're just feeling guilty about all that money he spent on you."

"Same difference," Marron said with a shrug.

"If he started his own record label," Trunks began, quickly gaining everyone's attention, "I would then immediately leave my boring job and pursue my pipedream of becoming a world-renowned rock star. Malachi and I would start a band."

Everyone laughed at the mere thought, but Vegeta thought that there was at least an ounce of truth in his statement.

"A _rock_ band? Malachi? The guy known for reinventing the entire pop genre?" 18 asked with a raised eyebrow.

"He's into all kinds of music so he told me," Trunks said with a grin, "I think he's just been pigeonholed into one thing that he could do really, really well. I don't think he'd mind branching out a bit."

"Probably not," Bra said thoughtfully. "I've seen his musical playlists and they're just all over the place. I mean, don't get me wrong, R&B is definitely his comfort zone, but there's billions of songs between all those playlists _and_ he told me that he always puts them together on his own."

"I would kinda' like to see that the more I think about it," Bulma said referring to Trunks being in a band.

"And he'd have all those girls swooning over him," Marron said snickering.

Vegeta snorted at this. "Head's already big enough."

"Don't worry, I'd let you join as well, Dad," he said much to Vegeta's chagrin.

Everyone laughed just a little bit harder at the image they must have conjured up in their mind.

"And I'd want you in it too," Trunks said indicating Goten with a nod.

"Why not?" Goten said with a shrug.

"Let's see," Bulma said jumping in, "So in this imaginary band, you have Malachi, Goten, your father, and who else? Any takers?"

"If Malachi's in it, then I'd definitely join," 18 said smoothly with crossed arms.

"Me too," Pan said at last, "Though I could barely hold a note."

"Don't worry, this is an imaginary band," Bulma said with a laugh.

"Alright, that's already enough—I even have backup singers," Trunks said.

"Wait, is this _your_ band all of a sudden?" Bra said, "As soon as you mention Malachi's name everyone will just think it's his."

"It's a joint operation," Trunks said with a grin.

"I'd pay tickets to see that," Marron admitted. "Seriously."

Soon people were talking about what the band name could be—it kind of grew into a very inside joke with far too many details as people added more and more ideas into the mix. People were assigned to instruments, there were even album names and songs that were _sure_ to be hits if this all actually happened. Vegeta found it to be utterly ridiculous, but intriguing enough to stay and listen. Even after the food finally came, they were still talking about it and Vegeta did nothing to derail the topic. Bra had become a bit more talkative and she'd even graced them with a smile of her own. He was not about to ruin the moment.

They conversed far into the night about other things as well though all pertaining in some way to Malachi and eventually they dispersed among all the numerous rooms in the main house. Bra, Pan, and Marron spent the rest of the night and early next morning together watching the playlist of Malachi's music videos in the living room with the biggest television. Others would join them for a while and then return to their chosen room. It was a free for all. Vegeta could hear Malachi's melodious tones throughout the night floating up to his room. As his ears began to focus on that, he began to appreciate it more and more, not that he hadn't before, but now was different. There was a crystalline quality to his voice, light and airy—refreshing in a way different from other high tenors. His voice could change at the snap of a finger as he would add rasp and emotion to his tones. His dulcet voice was incredibly dynamic but distinctly his own.

Someone had turned it up a little more as Vegeta found himself falling asleep and it happened to be when he was singing one of his slower paced songs that was akin to a lullaby. Of course, those weren't his most popular, but he could showcase his range far more easily in these. It was the last thing Vegeta heard that day.

* * *

 **A few days later after the funeral, Vegeta made a trip to Dende's Lookout to ask him a few questions which had been bothering him.** As usual, the deity seemed to know he was coming and stood outside waiting for him. Vegeta wondered if he also knew the questions he had.

"Vegeta, I always enjoy your occasional visits," Dende said with a genuine smile. "Goku was right in trusting the Earth's protection to you."

"I'm sure you must think he's some sort of genius," Vegeta said sardonically to the good-natured Namekian.

"Well, he's remarkably good at judging people's character, perhaps better than me."

Vegeta sighed exasperatedly at this, "He just got lucky. He just knows that people, in general, can change and he took a chance just like he always does. Most times he's utterly wrong. I was the exception."

"Along with Piccolo, Tien, and even Yamcha."

Vegeta snorted at this. "I didn't come here to discuss Kakarot."

"Yes, I know, you want to know about Malachi—an insignificant human in the grand scheme of things."

"In the grand scheme things, I doubt there's any one significant individual," Vegeta said back.

"Touché," Dende replied. "We all live and we all die. Then we are reincarnated and the cycle begins again. Life is a simple thing and yet humans have become experts in adding false complications."

"I don't think I'd ever characterize life as 'simple', but who I am to argue with the Guardian of Earth? Just tell me, Dende, where is Malachi now?"

"I think you already know the answer to that question," Dende said knowingly, "But I suppose it would help if I confirmed it for you. He did not keep his body, of course. He was not pure hearted and he certainly hasn't done exceptionally good deeds."

"If Kakarot is supposedly pure hearted, then we have different criteria for what that actually means. He was not without his flaws."

"He could ride the Nimbus," Dende reminded him.

"The Nimbus is suddenly infallible just because I don't know where it gets it's reasoning from? In fact, that makes it worse. I'll be sure to ask the sentient _cloud_ all my burning questions as it seems extremely knowledgeable in all things."

"I was only stating a fact," Dende said, "Your opinions are strictly your own. Clearly, your view of Goku is a bit biased."

"Ignorance is perfectly acceptable for someone considered pure apparently. How can someone be that when they don't know the consequences of their actions? How can someone be so 'good', if they don't even _care_ to find out those consequences or to educate themselves about the world? Kakarot is always there for a fight, but is he there for others outside of that? Does he care about the state of the human condition or the issues that constantly plague them? How can he be their savior and spend so little time with them? But _Malachi_ isn't pure? He is purely human and he has always striven to do what he thought was right to the best of his ability despite everything working against him—his own personality, even society itself. He was the only one who thought to use the Senzu Beans on someone other than his immediate friends. He knew that there were always people out there who could use medicine like that even in the state that he was at the time. In this long stretch of peace, no one has even considered that. And," Vegeta looked away for a moment before placing his gaze squarely on Dende once again, "anyone who could honestly and fully love my daughter despite her flaws has the kind of goodness in their heart that I've never seen from anyone before—not even Kakarot. He loves unconditionally and he _thinks_. He doesn't do things purely out of instinct or because he was born that way or that he's never known any other way, he understands what he does and he understands how that might affect others. Being 'pure' doesn't seem like anything you have to work for; you just have to happen to _be_ that way and if that's really the case, then that is a poor indicator as to whether someone deserves to keep their body or go to heaven."

Dende stood watching him thoughtfully. "Malachi has come a long way from his past, but he's never fully dealt with his own demons, actively refusing to acknowledge the exact details of his youth. He lies indiscriminately to suit his own purposes and he doesn't always know what's right and wrong. Those things make him impure. He's not done anything that makes him any different from the next human despite his popularity among them—"

"You mean, he hasn't saved the world from some global threat? Is _that_ what he needs to do? A human, a race of beings who are physically weak compared to most others races I've ever come upon—do you honestly expect that of a human? Krillen and Yamcha are outliers, you realize. They can only do so much and for a human, Malachi has done a lot of good in the world."

"Be that as it may, the fact remains. He is no different—"

"Those words are really coming out of your mouth. No different. One would think a deity who spends his days tuned in to the world would know what's common and uncommon. No different," Vegeta finished in a ridiculing tone.

"I don't claim to know how King Yemma decides who goes to heaven or not or who gets to keep their bodies—it is his prerogative."

"Then can you speak to him on my behalf about Malachi? Can you make sure that he doesn't suffer in death?"

Dende smiled only briefly at him. "Your concern is admirable—you've come a long way as well. I would say that _you_ are pure—"

"Don't start with me. I'm here about Malachi. Will you do that for me?"

"It's already too late for all that. Time works differently in Other World. It might have seemed like you had to wait a very long time when you were in line awaiting your turn for King Yemma to judge you, but only a few moments had passed on Earth."

"Then what did King Yemma decide? Out with it already."

"He's been sent to Hell, but he hasn't been placed in prison; he is 'free' in that regard. However, as punishment, he is forced to feel as if he is starving and to relive his childhood as it really occurred over and over again."

"That sounds unnecessarily harsh," Vegeta said at once.

"Well, it is Hell and the punishment must be the thing that you hate the most. Some end up seeming harsher than others because of that."

"King Yemma has changed his mind on things before. I was even brought back to life for a little while when he deemed it convenient enough. I don't see why you can't try to convince him to decide differently just as Kakarot once did for me."

"You see, Kakarot is naïve and the reasons he gave truly were good reasons to bring you back. I, however, do not personally have any reason to change his mind."

"You do have one—because _I_ want you to. Do you not trust me?"

"Against all odds, I do."

"Then do as I ask. Please."

"But I can tell when someone is blinded by bias. The answer is no. In time, Malachi will be reincarnated, his memory of everything completely gone. He will be a new person and perhaps he could fare better in life."

"And that is all you are willing to do to help?" Vegeta asked.

"That is all," Dende replied without hesitation. "And I expect you to respect my decision."

Vegeta gazed at him longer, but the other didn't budge even a little as he matched his stare. "I will remember this," Vegeta said after a minute passed. He turned away and walked closer to the edge of the ring. "I will remember how you chose not to help me. Next time when you need my help, I will not lift a finger in your regard."

"It would not be wise to make me your enemy especially after all that progress you've made in being someone who fights for good," Dende said back.

Vegeta snorted at this. "It wouldn't be wise to make _me_ your enemy, the most powerful being on this planet, and I don't plan on dying anytime soon. Even if you don't like me—Kakarot certainly does and I have a feeling that King Yemma feels the same way. I doubt anyone would see wanting to save someone from suffering to be inherently bad, but perhaps dooming someone to that fate based solely on personal disdain could be seen as coldhearted. If I were you, I'd worry for my own goodness and whether I have any right to judge others so cynically."

Vegeta took off after this not willing to hear what the other had to say. He was on the verge of utterly annihilating him right where he stood with his smug righteousness. Only Goku seemed capable of pulling it off without instantly annoying him to death. He refused to think that Dende was the golden standard for being a "good" person. He had Bulma after all who was a better teacher by far.

At Dende's unhelpfulness, a fire burned within him that had not been there before. He would find a way to save Malachi no matter how unorthodox the method. He would not have his daughter living in despondency for the rest of her life; if he could help it, he would like for Jensen, Machi, and Jr. to have a father and not ever know a life in which he was absent. Vegeta knew that Malachi would want that as well.

* * *

 **AN:** A little levity to an otherwise somber ending. To be perfectly honest, I was half asleep editing this. This was really long and I just finished it. I usually wait a day before editing something. It's cause for celebration and I hoped that you liked the fruits of my labor.

I was thinking about what I might do in a sequel and I was staunchly set on writing another long chaptered story, but some of you have expressed interest in having a collection of chapters that don't have to be particularly sequential or interconnected. That was a big "hmmm" because I've never done anything like that. Then I thought about it for a long time. That actually sounds like a good idea though it does sound like a bit of a cop out. It's not like I have everything outlined. But it could be fun just writing things that come to my head instead of following some strict plot. I'll just have to see how things go whenever I start writing again.

To _WildHeart44_ who asked if I was hesitant about having Malachi die due to the "endgame", that wasn't the reason. I'd just grown really attached to Malachi and I didn't want it to end. Him passing away was the endgame. Malachi leaving things unfinished was entirely intentional.


End file.
